Her voice came from the side of the cañon, and the scout saw her head lifted over a heap of boulders.
Bullets continued to sweep the ore-platform, but, before the scout hurried to join Wah-coo-tah, he knelt, picked up his hat and coat, and called to his pards.
“Stay where you are!” he ordered. “You haven’t any guns, and you’d only be in the way.”
Having delivered these instructions, he whirled and leaped down the side of the ore-dump. Bullets from behind boulders across the cañon followed him as he ran, yet he managed to gain the barrier, behind which Wah-coo-tah had taken refuge, without injury.
“Who are the men?” were the scout’s first words.
“My fadder and the other Yellow Eyes,” replied the girl.
“How many, Wah-coo-tah?”
“Seven.”
“That means the whole gang is here,” observed the scout, thinking dejectedly of his brace of Colts, which were all the firearms he and his pards had. “Where are the gang’s horses, Wah-coo-tah?”
“No sabe,” answered the girl. “Mebbyso cayuses left up the gulch. When they come they walk, creep ’long behind rocks. Me no see um till they come close. Then me shoot, and they begin to shoot, too. No like um. Heap bad Yellow Eyes.”