“I can’t understand why some of those chaps at least didn’t ride back to the hotel as fast as they knew how,” remarked Bob. “Something must have surely happened.”
“I’m afraid so!” said Tom. “Hello——”
Sharpshooters, from behind a high barricade of sand-bags on the roof of a near-by building, had suddenly opened fire.
“I wonder if it means that the Constitutionalists are gettin’ nearer?” cried Bob.
“I hardly think so,” declared Cranny. “Seems to me the firin’s been growin’ less for some time.” He looked around at the little knots of people, gathered together at various points. “These chaps appear to have lost some o’ their panicky feelin’s.”
“Well! What shall we do?” demanded Tom.
“Keep on riding until the town is scoured from end to end!” replied Bob. A sudden thought struck him. “Perhaps, for some reason, they’ve all gone over the International bridge!”
“Not on your life!” scoffed Cranny. “Three of ’em were goin’ to stay here even if the rebs blew the town from under ’em! I don’t know about Jimmy, though,” he added reflectively.
This time Tom shook his head.
“No; I believe it would take more than this to make him beat it over to that Texas town!” he said, emphatically.