Not far had he ridden, however, when he met Rose, who, alarmed at the whistling and patter of the shells, had started back to learn if her pals had been injured.
"Any wounds?" she asked, surveying Red and Pedro, anxiously.
"Narry a scratch. Pedro's shield stopped a couple of pills, though. But they didn't hit him in the vitals.
"I'll take the lead, now. Keep your eyes and ears open, but don't shoot unless I give the word."
And with Red in the van and Pedro bringing up the rear, the outlaws resumed their ride down the mountainside.
And, while they descended, the troopers were swarming up the trail, just as the notorious outlaw had anticipated, eager to close in upon the fugitives.
When word had been received at the Fort, thirty hours before, that Red Rogers had literally shot his way to freedom, leaving three corpses besides that of the telegraph operator to mark his departure, the excitement had been intense.
Summoning his officers, the colonel had bidden them each to take an hundred men and, riding in the form of a half moon, to scour every nook and cranny of the foothills, keeping in touch with one another during the day by heliograph signals and at night by rockets.
Quickly the orders had been given and as the troopers assembled, Colonel Edwards had addressed them.
"Remember, you have no rum-crazed Indian to deal with," he said. "The man you are after is not only an expert in woodcraft and familiar with every section of the 'Bad Lands,' but one who knows no fear and brings down his men when he shoots.