Mike shook his head in disagreement. “Let’s stop being heroes. If Joe’s in trouble, we won’t be able to help him alone.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sandy admitted. “But I sure would like to know what’s above those rocks.”
“We’ll know in a little while,” Mike assured him, heaving the bedroll over his shoulder, “soon as we can bring Dad and Hank down here.”
“I think,” Sandy said in a very quiet voice, “that we’ll know sooner than that.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked. He glanced at Sandy, and was surprised to see the strange expression on his face. He followed Sandy’s gaze up to the row of boulders above their heads, and suddenly he knew why Sandy had frozen.
Standing on the rocks were three men. Two of them carried rifles which they kept trained down at the boys. All three, Mike saw, had the dark complexion and long, straight hair of Indians.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Captured
The middle Indian—the one without a rifle—was the first to speak. “Drop your packs to the ground,” he ordered. His voice was hard and guttural. “And do it slow.”
Mike stiffened in anger, and for a moment Sandy thought he was going to try to make a break for it. “Take it easy,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Better do what he says.”
Mike shook his head stubbornly. “They’re not going to do any shooting,” he insisted. “The others are too close.”