Then they mounted their wagons, let on a requisite amount of steam, and let drive, a score of men standing ready with cocked rifles to guard them from assault or shot.
Whiz, crash, and with a thundering bunk the heavy end of the young tree smashed up against the strongly-made door, fairly starting it from its hinges, and with great skill Charley and Frank shut off steam at the right moment.
The beam recoiled.
Back it went to the full stretch of the elastic bands that held it, and then flew forward again.
With a reluctant crash the door gave way, and with the same idea uppermost in their minds, Frank and Charley tumbled over backwards, and landed in their wagons.
Well it was for them that they did so, for at that moment half a dozen rifles where thrown forward from the doorway, and as many bullets out the air above the vacant driving-seats.
Had not the drivers been prompt in their action, they must inevitably have been riddled with balls.
“Charge!”
It was Harry Hale’s voice, giving the word of command.
“Hurrah!”