"Unconditional surrender, lay down every gun you have, march out and be made prisoners!" was the ultimatum of Lieutenant Snow.
It was the only terms that could be offered the treacherous band that had broken over the border from Mexico.
"And tell 'em," shouted Snake, who, with his friends had understood the import of what was said, "tell the beggar if any harm has come to Rosemary or Floyd, we'll kill every one of the Greasers!"
Lieutenant Snow waved his hand for silence. He listened to something the bearer of the flag of truce had to say, and then the officer announced:
"The captives aren't here!"
"Aren't here!" cried Bud, Nort and Dick together.
"Don't let nim fool you!" shouted Yellin' Kid.
"Order them to march out, unarmed and then we'll search their camp," called Captain Marshall.
Seeing that it would be useless to prolong matters, and knowing his entire band would be wiped out if he continued the fight, now that his rear was attacked, Paz growled out the necessary orders to his followers, and they came out from amid the rocks—that is those who could walk.
They were a sorry-looking lot. Always of a nondescript type, dirty, ragged and greasy, the Yaquis were even worse now, for they had been on the trail for some time, and had taken part in at least two fights. They had had no time to recuperate since making the raid in La Nogalique.