Siwash Charley! was the thought that darted through his brain. It did not seem possible that the man had been gone an hour.
It was too late, now, to leave the dugout, and Matt got up and staggered to the door. For a moment he stood there, looking. He was seen, and a furious yell came echoing across the prairie. There was no doubt of the approaching horseman being Siwash Charley.
The crack of a revolver was heard, and a bullet thumped spitefully into the woodwork of the door frame.
Matt drew back, closed the door, and shoved the bolt.
Right then and there he and Siwash Charley would have out their little differences. But Siwash was not the only one of the two who was armed.
Matt remembered the rifle which belonged to Murgatroyd, and to which Siwash had called Pecos Jones' attention. Pecos, in his haste, had left without it, and Matt now hurried to the corner and picked it up; then, returning to the door, he crouched there and waited.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
BESIEGED.
The king of the motor boys hated the very touch of a firearm. He had seen so much wanton use of such weapons when in the Southwest, that he had become imbued with horror and disgust for anything that carried powder and ball.