“My! Wouldn’t I like to see what is going on now. It’s tough to have to stay here in suspense.”
The boys made no attempt to conceal their worried state of mind. Every one had come to like the big-hearted courageous Rangers immensely, and the thought that they might be made the target for Mexican bullets was a profoundly disturbing one.
The minutes dragged slowly by. Suddenly the sharp report of a rifle shot ringing out came as a jarring shock to their nerves. Then a second, quickly followed by a perfect fusillade, made the boys look at one another with paling faces.
“The scrap’s started!” cried Sam.
“Isn’t it dreadful!” exclaimed Don. “I’m so afraid——”
He paused suddenly, for a singular fact had been impressed upon his mind. He was once more hearing the sound of running horses. What could it mean? Had the fugitives reversed the rôles?
“I don’t understand it a bit!” he breathed.
“Nor I,” cried Sam.
“All I know is that they seem to be coming back this way and mighty fast,” put in Dave.
Puzzled as well as alarmed, the three watched and waited, expecting to hear just what shortly did happen—another crackling volley of shots.