“Emma!” she cried, “do you know where we are?”
“No.”
“We are on Pinal Creek. We are almost home, little one, and our troubles are nearly at an end. Oh, I am so happy—and so hungry,” added Grace, laughing a little hysterically.
“I can’t believe it. Let’s run,” urged Miss Dean.
“Don’t forget that the bandits are somewhere ahead of us. I suspect that they are in the vicinity of our camp.”
Grace was anxious for her friends. No shots, so far as she had heard, had been fired by them, and she began to fear that perhaps all was not well in the Overton camp. They pressed on more rapidly now, finally reaching the creek side of Squaw Valley. No fire burned in the camp, nor could the girls see the tents, which was not surprising, for the night in the valley was almost as dark as in the mountain canyon that they had just left.
“The silence here seems charged with possibilities,” whispered Grace. “Keep alert, Emma.”
“I am, but it doesn’t seem to do any good. I feel wretched and frightened.”
“There they go!” cried Grace.
A sudden scattering fire of rifle shots somewhere out in the field made the girls’ nerves jump.