The lights were certainly coming nearer, and, with them, a body of horsemen; and now the soldiers could hear the quick popping of pistol-shots. Then all at once a loud shout arose from where the lights were, the sound of wheels came nearer and nearer, but the accompanying horsemen were obviously riding now in the other direction.
“Are you the soldiers?” shouted a chorus of voices from the coach as it came up.
“Yes.”
“You can catch them yet; they tried to stop us and rob us; and would have done, but for hearing you.”
The troop did not draw bridle, but wheeled away on to the prairie in pursuit of half a dozen moving figures on whom they were easily gaining. A minute later a 215 voice in front cried: “All right; we’ll give in. Don’t fire.”
“Why, those are not Indians,” said Trias in astonishment.
Nor were they; they were six Mexican brigands who had been pursuing the mail; the Apaches were probably safe long ago, in one of their forest camps. The highwaymen were soon seized and bound, and as it was ultimately discovered that they were some of the revolutionaries for whom Trias was on the look-out, the night-ride was not altogether a wild-goose chase.