The little band of horsemen were none other than Jesse James' notorious gang of outlaws.
After their sensational hold-ups of the Overland Stages in the Devil's Burying Ground, the last one of which had been done under the very noses of a troop of United States cavalrymen, the outlaws had headed for Arizona.
Hiding in caves and riding by night they had eluded the troopers and, at last, in the belief that they had outdistanced their pursuers, they had relaxed their caution, continuing their flight by day instead of under cover of darkness.
Consequently, when the member of the desperate gang of cut throats who was in the lead had caught sight of the fires, they were struck with consternation.
"It doesn't seem possible them sojers could have ridden round us," exclaimed Bob Moore, as Comanche Tony disappeared on his reconnaissance.
And this statement voiced the opinion of the others.
"No, it doesn't," returned the bandit-chieftain. "But you can't tell. Maybe they've sent word to one of the forts to the south of us and they've sent out a searching party."
"Phew! That would be tough!" gasped Sam Dirks. "We'd be between two fires, sojers in front of us and sojers behind us. It would take some figurin' on your part, Jess, to get us out."
The fact was so patent that the leader of the outlaws made no comment.
Well he realized the danger such a contingency would mean, yet till his trusted pal had returned from his scouting expedition, he could make no plans.