A half grin fluttered across the Ranger’s face, but it lasted only for an instant.
“Now is the time when the Ranger force of Texas is going to perform another signal service for the state,” he said. “How little those fellows suspect they are bottled up!” He began to descend the slope.
The sleepers were awakened. There was no excitement, no alarm, either on the part of boys or men. The expected had simply happened. That was all!
Less than five minutes later a party of horsemen, Carl Alvin in the lead, were picking their way through the winding ravines, with dark gloomy crags hanging menacingly above their heads.
All arrangements having been made beforehand they halted at a certain point and there they were almost immediately joined by the other policemen. Now Sergeant Howell took command.
Those were thrilling moments for the boys. It was a dangerous game they were mixed up in. What would be the outcome? Silently, with sober faces, they followed the sergeant’s stern injunction to keep well to the rear.
There was only one outlet to the less rugged country beyond and through this the riders must pass. At the most favorable point for decisive action the Texas Rangers halted.
“Not a word, men,” commanded Sergeant Howell, in a stern, cautious tone. “Remember, don’t let one escape.”
The silent, motionless horsemen waited, their ears strained to catch the faintest sounds which would tell them of the others’ approach.
The boys saw Alvin raise his hand.