Presently the second party made a sudden dash for the cover of the mine, where their erstwhile enemies had disappeared.
After a few minutes the sheriff and his men arose, one after another, and stared helplessly at the place where the enemy had disappeared. They could not understand this manœuvre. They had come upon two bands of fighting men, and had taken a hand at settling the dispute by attempting to wipe out both parties. Now the former enemies had nested together—either had come to an understanding or had gone beyond reach of the third party to fight it out alone.
Agent Price rubbed his eyes and stared at the hole in the mountain, then held conversation with the sheriff. It seemed to the onlookers that they must have agreed upon some plan, for they at once began a movement which eventually placed them in the position just vacated by the last party to take refuge in the mine.
Here the sheriff halted, not daring to enter the frowning interior, where a dozen or so well-armed men might pour a disastrous volley into them from the darkness beyond.
The sheriff and Price held council behind the shelter of the bowlders.
Then the watchers saw another sight that puzzled them still further. Out from the upper entrance to the mine filed a column of men. They ranged themselves along the upper shelf without a sound, each man with ready rifle or revolver, and then crept slowly up to the brink, where they could look down upon the unprotected sheriff and his men. They had nearly reached the objective point when in the lower entrance appeared a figure with wildly waving arms, who shouted:
“In here, quick! It’s a trap! They’re over your heads!”
Before Price and the sheriff could understand, the men above had risen with leveled guns, and a big voice shouted:
“Hands up, or we’ll blow you into the rocks!”
And their hands went up as their weapons dropped, for resistance was useless. The rocks which sheltered them from an enemy on a level with their footing protected them no longer.