And they did.
A volley of rifle shots rang out from both sides, but the bandits had dropped to their knees and fired up at their adversaries, whose bullets had whistled over the newcomers' heads and buried themselves in the logs of the cabin.
"Once more!" thundered Jesse.
Again the outlaws poured their deadly fire into the ranks of their enemy. And just then the door of the cabin at the rear crashed in and Wild Bill and the rest of the bandits rushed in.
With them came the sunshine and the gentle morning breeze that swept away the smoke.
Seven men lay dead and groaning on the floor.
"Jess, where are you?" cried Frank, peering over the ghastly array of faces.
"Here," answered Jesse. "Come and release me." And sure enough the notorious outlaw lay over in one corner. His hands were free, but his feet were securely bound, and in this condition he had been holding his desperate adversaries at bay, after surreptitiously freeing his hands.
Wild Bill's revolver cracked spitefully, and one of the fellows who had scrambled to his feet and sought to sneak away, went down with a bullet in his leg.