Sleepy had dismounted, and he did not think to mount and ride. In fact, he hardly knew what it was all about. He ran around the wall and almost collided with Hashknife, who sprang out through where the dynamite had wrecked the wall.
“What the —— was it?” panted Sleepy.
“Sh-h-h-h-h!” whispered Hashknife. “Listen.”
They stood against the ruined wall, straining their ears for the slightest sound. Then they heard the distant thud of running horses, growing fainter and fainter, as the riders faded away in the hills.
Hashknife swore softly, as he told Sleepy of the two men. Some one had extinguished the lamp in the ranch-house, and Sleepy called, telling them that everything was all right.
They found Marion and Jimmy on the back porch, and told them about the two men who had shot at Hashknife.
“Oh, I’m a fine guard!” said Jimmy bitterly. “Sleepy told me to keep an eye open. But we started singing, and—”
“Oh, it’s all right,” laughed Hashknife. “Nobody hurt. If we’d only gone over and investigated, when that horse nickered, Sleepy, we’d ’a’ had ’em cinched. But I didn’t look for ’em to come back so soon. That’s sure a puzzle. The further I go into this thing, the worse the fog gets.
“They wasn’t over here by the house. They could ’a’ looked in the window and seen who was in there. They might ’a’ been waitin’ for us to come back, but if they were, why did they let us walk in on ’em? I heard one of ’em snap a warnin’; so it kinda looks as though they didn’t expect us just then.”
“Do you think you hit either one of them?” asked Jimmy nervously.