The smiling outlaw now looked grave, and turning to his comrade asked, loud enough for me to hear: "Shall we go in and cook?"
"No, better water our horses and go on," said the partner.
Then, quite as I anticipated, while the more slender man rode direct to the tub of water, to the right of us, the other guided his horse to our left, to hem Coonskin and me in between them.
Instantly I rose to my feet, and trailing the rifle over my wrist strode, eyeing him defiantly, in a line at a right angle with the course of his horse, but the rogue did not go far before turning his steed in the direction of the tub. There both men dismounted behind their steeds, took off the bridles with spade bits that their horses might drink, and regarded us tenderfeet with some respect and concern. They handled their bridles with their left hands, which left their right hands free to use the revolvers I had seen in their belts; in view of which fact, Coonskin and I took shelter behind our donkeys, three of which were lying down after rolling, and, aggressive as well as defensive, awaited our opportunity.
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"Through Devil's Gate, their panniers scraped the walls."
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