There was a sound of shouting and alarm in the ranch houses, as Adeler’s men woke up.
But the men creeping in at the gate were alarmed, too. Instantly they rushed into the ranch-yard, fully fifty of them, and toward the machine-gun. They climbed the platform, and loaded the gun into a cart.
In their midst Hike saw a man in uniform, with two revolvers. It was Willoughby Welch, once a real captain.
The insurrectos dashed toward the gate, with the gun, Hike ran after them, firing at Welch. He saw Welch rub his leg, as if winged, then swing about, still running, and fire.
A bullet clipped a lock of Hike’s hair. He stopped, for a dozen insurrectos were facing about. Then, behind him, sounded Jack Adeler’s voice, “Come on!” and the patter of a dozen men running.
At their head, Hike raced on, with Adeler. But by the time they reached the gate the insurrectos were off, on horseback, with the gun driven among them, in a fast light cart. Their shadows were already flashing along the moon-lit surface of the desert, among the thick gray patches of sage-brush and sparse grass.
With the Lieutenant, Hike rushed to the stables, and the men saddled at fever-heat. Not a word was heard, except “Where’s my bridle?” “Tony, gimme some shells.” The bunch all swung to saddle, and went galloping out of the ranch gate, slanting through it like a train on a curve, firing at the retreating insurrectos.
The Mexicans had stopped and formed about the cart, as a barricade. With rifles resting on the cart, they returned the fire. Tony Peries, at Hike’s side, silently dropped off his horse. A party of twenty insurrectos darted out from their main bunch and circled.
“Back!” shrieked the Lieutenant. “Back, I tell you. We’ll get surrounded. They’re cutting us off.”
“Aw—” came a yowl of protest from his men; but they turned and rode back to the ranch, as Adeler savagely shrieked “Back, I tell you,” again.