The Overton fire was permitted to die out by degrees, finally ceasing altogether. The strategy of Grace and Hippy had accomplished what they wished it to do—it had made the attackers careless, they evidently surmising from the way the firing died away, that the defenders either had been killed or wounded.
Uttering shrill yells, and shooting, it seemed, with every jump of their horses, the night riders swept down on the little camp in Squaw Valley, determined to put a speedy finish to their work.
“Ready! Fire!” commanded Lieutenant Wingate.
The defenders opened up on the advancing horsemen, firing as rapidly as they could pull the triggers of their rifles. A moment or so of this, apparently, was enough for the attackers, who suddenly whirled and raced their horses further out, where they again began shooting, with bullets from the camp still following them.
“We have ’em on the run! Keep ’em going!” urged Hippy, trying to locate their assailants, whose rifles, at that instant, had suddenly ceased firing. Now and then one or another of the defenders, discovering a movement among the marauders, would shoot, but such shots elicited no reply.
Hippy finally advised that the defenders divide their force, and each take a side of the camp to avoid a surprise, which was done.
“Is it all over?” cried Emma Dean from her hiding place.
“We hope so, but keep down close to the ground for the present,” advised Miss Briggs. “Are you girls all right?”
“Yes, but not riotously happy,” returned Anne.
“The attackers, I should say, are less so; therefore, don’t worry,” answered Elfreda.