Seeming no bigger than ants, a file of men wound in and out among the rocks far below.
"It's the troopers! Quick, saddle up!" commanded the bandit. "They're shooting at such an angle they can't hit us here. But this is no place to stand a siege.
"It'll be hot work reaching the Old Stockade, now!"
In the face of this unexpected danger, the stress of the past few moments was forgotten.
Quickly Rose dashed into the cave, returning with a canvas bag and some blankets, while Red and Pedro hurriedly caught the stolen army horses, thrust bridles, rudely improvised the night before from pieces of rawhide, into their mouths, and then, with other pieces of thong, laced the blankets brought out by the girl upon their backs.
"How about the scouts? Shall we leave 'em?" inquired Pedro.
"Not much!" returned the outlaw, once more the calculating bandit whose resourcefulness was his greatest strength. "The troopers will be sure to come here, and if they find our prisoners, there'll be just three more against us."
"But we can put them out of the way," suggested the girl, her former compassion vanished.
"Sure, whenever we want. Just now, we need 'em. We'll each put one behind us. They'll serve as a bullet shield."
By this time the patter of the bullets against the wall of rock had become a veritable hailstorm and the wisdom of the bandit's plan was evident for, once on the trail, there was no telling when some trooper might get the exact range.