Joe and Blake questioned thus by turn as they leaped to Hank’s side. They were in darkness now, for the cowboy had ceased shooting, and those who had come to attack had likewise allowed their weapons to become silent. As a matter of fact, Hank Selby had only fired in the air, if possible to frighten off the Indians, and it seemed that the redmen had done the same, since there was no whine of bullets over the head of the guide.
“What is it?” asked Blake, fingering the rifle he had caught up as he rushed from the tent.
“Indians,” replied Hank, in a low voice. “It’s probably some band of Moquis or Navajos, who escaped being rounded up as the others were. Probably they were chased so hard, or were so surprised at one of their camps, that they had to leave without their ponies. And they do hate to walk. They saw our animals and tried to get ’em, but I was suspicious all along.”
“But where are they now?” asked Joe, peering out into the darkness. “I can’t see a thing, and our animals seem to be all there.”
“The beggars dropped down, and are hiding,” said the cowboy. “They didn’t like the quick way I fired on ’em, I guess; though, land knows! I don’t want to hurt any of ’em if I can help it. They don’t know just what to do, and they’re biding their time.”
“Did they get any of our horses—or things?” asked Blake, anxiously, his thoughts on the valuable films.
“Not as yet,” replied Hank. “But this thing isn’t over with. They’ll come back, once they decide it’s worth while. We’ve got to get ready for ’em.”
“How?” asked Blake.
“Well, we’ve got to pile our stuff up as a sort of shelter, and then we’ve got to bring in the animals. It won’t do to have the imps run off with ’em, and that’s what they’re aiming to do.”
“But won’t it be risky to go out there in the darkness to bring in the ponies and burros?” asked Joe. “You say the Indians are concealed out there.”