It was getting lighter every minute, and Charlie Adams strained his bright eyes up along the crags in the hope of seeing a mark for his carbine.
Suddenly the sharp reports of rifles came from the front, and old Rube exclaimed:
"Indians in the pass! That's bad. We were almost through."
So they were, for the ambulance Pat was driving, and that Rube and Charlie were guarding, was the very tail of the train.
"Look out, Charlie."
"Bedad, they've done it! What'll I do now?"
A heavy bowlder had come smashing down through the tilted top of the ambulance, making dire destruction of the closely packed stowage, and startling Pat half out of his wits.
"Unhitch! Save your mules!"
The Governor and the Senator had something to say about that. They were worse scared than Pat himself, and they declared it, as mules will, in about half a bray apiece, but then they sprang wildly away up the pass, dragging behind them the battered ambulance, Pat and all.
"Go it, Pat! Come on, Charlie! There's a fight ahead, but we're beyond the neck."