“But the horses——”
“Bring the horses along, too. I reckon I haven’t mistaken the place. Here we are!”
As he spoke they came out into a roughly circular basin, surrounded completely by steep—aye, unscalable—rocks, but well grown to grass and bushes at the bottom. It was a veritable little pocket in the heart of the mountain. There was no escape from it, and no getting into it, excepting through the cave.
Chief kicked up his heels, snorted joyfully, and broke away from Cody’s detaining hand. The other horses followed, and the whole herd set to cropping the sweet grass in equine delight.
“Well, sir! This beats my time!” exclaimed Danforth.
“Guess we can stand a bit of a siege here, if necessary, eh?” queried Cody.
“That we could.”
Fire-wood was cut and brought into the cave and the meal started. Cody was not content to remain for long inactive, however. He slept while the meal was being prepared. After he had eaten, however, he left the camp, and in the gloaming made his way out and down into the valley from which they had retired, on the lookout for the enemy.
The worst of it was, he did not exactly know whether their white or red foes would be upon them first. The Sioux might attack—for they were now well into the Indian country—or Boyd Bennett and his gang might come back at them. If the latter, the troopers could handle the outlaws easily. But a horde of savages might give the troops a mighty pretty brush up here in the hills, so far away from reenforcements and a base of supplies.
The scout was careful to leave no trace himself, and when he reached the spot where the troopers had turned aside from the outlaw’s trail, he hid and watched, and waited, to see what or who might “turn up.” That it was about time for either the outlaws or the Indians to show their hand Cody was sure.