“How many are there of them, Nick?” inquired the scout.
“Fifteen.”
“Did you recognize any of them?”
“They was too fur off, Buffler, ter make out who they aire.”
“You could have recognized Hank Phelps easily enough, in his Mexican clothes.”
“Waal, I didn’t see him, an’ I don’t reckon he’s erlong.”
“Into the house, pards,” ordered the scout, “and we’ll make ready to hold our ground.”
Perry had already pushed into the cabin. Pierce and Nomad followed him. The scout was last to enter, and he closed the door and dropped a stout oak bar across it.
A few moments later there came a sodden roll of hoofs, growing louder and louder.
The scout, peering through a loophole, saw fifteen armed men debouch from the timber and surround the cabin.