It was as plain as home-cookin’ the minute he pointed it out; so we rose to our feet and made a rush for the mouth o’ the cave. We came out about half way up the face o’ the cliff; and for a moment we paused to admire Ty Jones’s foxiness. This openin’ couldn’t be seen from below, nor noticed from above, and for the most part the whole tunnel was natural, only havin’ been hand-widened in three or four places.
The fightin’ was goin’ on near the face o’ the cliff between us an’ the mouth of the ravine; so we circled around until we caught sight of ’em. The first feller we made out was Mexican Slim; so we knew our boys hadn’t been ambushed up above, and this raised our spirits like a balloon. We crept up until we could get good angle-shots, hid ourselves, gave the old Diamond Dot yell, and began to shoot. Ty’s men had been losin’ their bullet-appetite for some time, and they took us to be genuwine reinforcements. They were well planted where they were, but they started to retreat, and we crowded ’em close.
Then it was that Ty made Olaf’s word good: he exposed himself to shots, he rallied his men, and that wolf-grin never left his face; but still the tide had changed, and he had to go back with the rest. The woman, with her hands tied behind her, was in charge o’ the Chink, who was tall and heavy-set with a dark, evil, leathery face. He kept a grin on his face, too, which reminded me most of a rattlesnake at sheddin’ time. He used the woman as a shield, an’ this checked our fire an’ kept us dodgin’ for new positions. Still, all in all, this part o’ the fight was about as satisfactory as any I ever took part in.
Finally they retreated to the dip where the tunnel came out, and we had to skirmish up the rocks to keep our vantage. Soon we discovered that Ty had lost control of his men. He, Pepper Kendal, and two others stood in the mouth o’ the tunnel, and took a few shots at us before disappearin’; but six of his men ran straight across the dip, and down the other side toward the crick. Tillte Dutch was standin’ close to me, and I asked him where the hosses were. He said they were tied across the crick just above the upper ford; so I sent him for ’em full speed.
Horace and Tank stayed to watch the mouth o’ the openin’, while the rest of us wrangled the six Cross-branders through the cottonwoods. They had a good start, and so had time to cut the wire and cross the crick toward some broken land on the left. By this time Tillte had tied the reins and thrown ’em over the horns o’ the saddles so as to lead a string, and he came lopin’ into view.
Slim, two o’ the Simpson boys, Olaf, and myself mounted and cut off the six Cross-branders, who were too weary to even scatter. They had had enough and surrendered. We tied their hands, and herded ’em back to the old shack, where Oscar, Spider, and three disabled Cross-branders were runnin’ a little private hospital. We fixed up wounds as well as we could, sat the last six on a bench along the wall, and left Dick Simpson to guard ’em. Spider had been shot and cut consid’able; but he was able to stagger around some, while Oscar had been punctured below the ribs, and things looked bad for him. Olaf had been shot in the head, all right, just as The and I dove down the stairway the night before, but his skull was bullet-proof, so nothin’ came of it.
The Friar had been ransackin’ the locality, and had found one o’ the Simpson boys dead, and one badly hurt. Badly crippled, as we were, we didn’t see any way to get at Ty except to starve him out. First off, we made some coffee, and those who weren’t hurt dangerous were given some side-meat and corn bread; for, truth to tell, we were about once through. We spent the afternoon under a tree half way between the mouth o’ the tunnel, and the old cabin, so as to be handy in case we were needed. After talkin’ it all over, we couldn’t quite see why they had split up, some of ’em tryin’ to escape, and some stayin’ with Ty.
Finally I went to the cabin, durin’ a time the Friar was on watch at the cave mouth, and picked out the weakest lookin’ of the prisoners. I brought him down, and we tortured him with questions until he got fuddled and told us that the two who had stuck to Ty had been so bad hurt, they couldn’t go any farther; but that neither Ty nor Pepper were hurt to speak of.
The fact is, that in a general fight a feller loses his aim complete. We had all aimed at Ty and Pepper the most, and here they were the two not hurt at all. As darkness fell, the Friar couldn’t hold himself in. All afternoon he had done what he could for the wounded; but at thought of the woman spendin’ another night in the cave with those men, he became as wild-eyed as a bronc at his first brandin’. Durin’ the afternoon, Tank had stiffened until he couldn’t do much travelin’; but I saw the Friar had his mind made up to take a plunge, so I tried to fix things to prevent it.
Olaf, two o’ the Simpson boys, Promotheus, Tillte, Slim, Horace, and myself lined up as bein’ still in workin’ order; but while he was in the act of claimin’ to be all right, Slim doubled up in a faint, and we found he had been bad hurt without even himself knowin’ of it; so countin’ Horace who had two black eyes and a shot through the fore-arm, the’ was seven of us able to get about purty nimble. Hid away in the cave, somewhere, were Ty Jones, Pepper Kendal, and the Chink, unhurt so far as we knew, and two others, still probably able to help a little.