"But what I started to say was that once the first wild outburst is over, the Yaquis will keep mighty quiet. They won't go about with a brass band, advertising their hiding places."
"You mean it won't be easy to find them?" asked Nort.
"That's it, son. They're going to be mighty cute and foxy, and while a Yaqui isn't in it with our old time American Indians in the matter of covering a trail, still we aren't going to have any walkover. We've got our work cut out for us."
"I believe you!" shouted Yellin' Kid. "But we'll get the devils sooner or later."
"The sooner the better," said Rolling Stone quietly, and there was in his very quietness a menace which the boys understood very well. Every hour that Rosemary and Floyd remained in the hands of the Yaquis meant an ever increasing danger. And once the mad frenzy of the Indians wore off and they began to realize what they had done, anticipating the consequences once they were captured with the prisoners in their possession, there was hardly a question of what they would do to Rosemary and Floyd. The captives would be killed to get them out of the way.
It was this that urged the rescue party ahead with all the speed possible, and consistent with preserving their horses' power to travel.
In spite of wounds, and some were seriously hurt (one dying later) there was no sign of gloom in the midst of the party of which the boy ranchers formed an important element. Some of the cowboys sang, and Yellin' Kid intoned another verse or two of the many songs with which he seemed plentifully provided.
Coming to a deep ravine, along which the trail led into the mountains, where it was reported the Yaquis had headed, Snake Purdee called a halt.
"What's the matter now?" asked Rolling Stone.
"Do you see anything?" asked Bud, for he noticed the veteran cowboy looking down into the black depths.