So they finally struck out at random.
Leaving the tableland they skirted a part of the mountain wall.
Suddenly a startling thing occurred.
From a chaparral a score of greasers sprang out and surrounded them.
Revolvers were leveled at their heads, and the leader, a villainous looking fellow, exclaimed:
“Caramba! Move hand or foot and you’re dead men!”
“Heavens!” gasped Frank, in dismay. “We are in for it, Barney.”
“Bad luck to the omadhouns,” muttered the Celt, in disgust.
In a twinkling the two prisoners were disarmed and their hands were bound behind them.
Then the Mexicans led them away into the chaparral.