“No, but they’re there, all right. Boys, there may be some hot work ahead of us. You want to get ready for it.”
“Do—do you think they’ll shoot?” asked Blake.
“Well, they’ll do their best to get our things away from us,” was the answer. “They’re desperate, I’m afraid.”
Hank busied himself tethering the steeds nearer the temporary camp, while Joe and Blake finished their labors in building a defense against the possible rush of the redmen.
This was hardly finished, and they had scarcely collected a pile of brush to make a bright fire, if necessary, when there arose all around fierce shouts. At the same time there was a fusillade of shots; but, as far as could be seen, all the Indians were firing in the air.
“Look out!” yelled Hank. “They’re going to rush us!”
Before he ceased speaking there was the sound of many feet running forward. The shooting and shouting redoubled in volume, and the restless animals tried to break loose.
“The imps!” cried Hank. “They’re trying to stampede our animals, just as they did the cattle that time. Look out, boys!”
But nothing could be done against such numbers. The camp was overwhelmed in a daring raid, and though the boys and Hank did all they could, firing wildly in the air, they could not stand off the attack. Strangely enough, no effort was made to mistreat the boys or their companion. The Indians simply rushed over them and made for the pile of goods in the rear of the tents. They did not even seem to be after the horses.
“Stop ’em!” cried Blake. “They’ll take all our things!”