With two such dead shots against the robbers, the latter had little stomach for the battle. Besides, the scoundrels saw Danforth’s hat, and one yelled:
“Look out, boys! the troopers are on us!”
And already the thunder of the squadron of cavalry on the plateau above reached their ears. Their leader having disappeared in such a hurry, the cavalrymen had come up rapidly, and now heard the firing of the guns below.
“Hold, men! fly for your lives!” shouted the voice of Boyd Bennett.
He wheeled and larruped his horse up the hill. Before the troopers reached the brink of the bluff above the coach, the robbers were out of sight.
“You’re all right, old man!” yelled Danforth, in huge delight, smiting Cody on the back.
“Thanks to you, Dick.”
“Who was your particular friend yonder—the fellow with the mustache and the black hair?”
“Boyd Bennett.”
“By the nine gods of war! Too bad I didn’t settle his hash instead of just stinging him.”