By this time Charley Gorse had got upon his feet, and began looking about him in surprise.
He saw Harry Hale’s fist shoot out, and he saw Browning go down, and then the clear voice of his comrade rang out:
“Charley!”
“Here.”
“Follow me,” said Hale.
“Lead on,” cried Charley Gorse.
Hale leaped forward, a pistol clutched in his hand.
After him came Charley Gorse, but not similarly armed.
In a hand-to-hand affair Charley Gorse liked the bowie-knife.
It was heavy, deadly, and he was skilled in its use, and at close quarters, such as threatened them now, he preferred it to the best of revolvers.