"I just bet I could kill you at forty paces, if you were a claim-jumper and looked at me the way Hank looked at you!" declared Eleanor, emphatically.
The men laughed, and Bill wagged his head approvingly. "Ah say, Sam, let the gals take a crack at the Four Mile tree—and see."
"Well, even the sight of guns will make the villains respect us, even if we can't shoot!" added Barbara, who felt that the lesser of the two dangers would be to remain with Eleanor and Jeb where they now were.
After many instructions and warnings had been given to Jeb and the two city girls, Mr. Brewster spurred his horse on to ride after his companions who were already up the trail. But he had not far to go.
At the bend of the trail, where there was a small clearing, he saw the men standing up in their stirrups, intent on something ahead. He urged his horse up to join them, and just before reaching the group, he called out: "What's wrong?"
The horses were tossing their heads, pawing the ground, and acting restive. Bill turned half-way around in the saddle and replied: "D'you-all smell anything, Sam?"
Mr. Brewster noticed then, that the men held faces up and were sniffing in different directions. He then sniffed carefully himself and exclaimed: "Smells like smoke."
But even as he spoke, the thought reached him: "A forest fire!" His face went white and he murmured a prayer to himself for Polly and Anne.
"Yeh, Sam. Comin' down from the Slide," was all Bill said.
"My Gawd, men! what shall we do?" cried one of the possé.