What he noticed first was that Rojas was taking aim with his revolver at Piola. Manos Duras with his own revolver took aim at the rancher; but he could not draw the trigger. The other mountaineer who had been scouting on the opposite side of the ranch came between him and his target.
“There’s a whole bunch of them coming,” he yelled.
The dogs were following him, making violent leaps in the direction of the invisible enemy and back again.
And now events followed one another in such rapid succession that all that happened seemed to crowd with fantastic velocity on the heels of what was already occurring....
Manos Duras was the first to spring into action. With a rush he mounted his horse, nibbling at patches of coarse grass, as undisturbed by the shots fired as though he heard such detonations every day; and together, horse and cattle thief disappeared behind the ranch house.
Piola turned from Watson to consider his own safety. He too felt safer on horseback; keeping his rifle in his left hand, he jumped on his mount with the remaining gaucho, and went to keep guard over the troop of pack horses who represented the entire fortune of the band.
Rojas, apparently forgetting all possibility of danger to himself, rode towards Watson.
“What have they done to you, gringuito?” he asked with genuine emotion. “Have they killed you?”
“Nothing ... a scratch ... that’s all.”
Don Carlos had no time for more. It was imperative that he discover what there was on the hidden side of the ranch house. He pushed his horse forward, and passed the screening angle of the building.