"Same here," grunted Shaw.
And without more ado, the three scouts who had been so humiliated by the notorious outlaw, took up the task of recovering their horses and bringing the desperadoes to justice.
Cautiously, with eye and ears alert, they followed the tracks up the mountainside.
Far above them, on a plateau to the right of the trail, a different scene was presented.
At the back of the shelf of land, which was some forty feet wide, rose a wall of rock, severed by a wide cleft. Deep within this, the fitful flare of a camp fire glowed, disclosing the forms of two men and a woman, while browsing contentedly near the entrance, but on the plateau, were the three army horses.
Fairly bristling were the men with guns and knives, while only by her skirts did the girl differ in appearance from her companions, for she, too, wore a cartridge belt about her waist, into which were thrust two six shooters and a bowie-knife.
"It was worth all the risk to hear the scouts cry 'Red Rogers,'" declared the outlaw, as he recounted the incidents of his discovery to his companions.
And jeering were the comments made upon the stupidity of the scouts by the others.
"What do you suppose they'll do now, go back to the Fort for reinforcements?" asked the girl.
"Most likely," asserted the other man.