The day dragged on. The boys were all slightly nervous, though they wouldn't admit it. Several times one would catch the other fingering his gun unconsciously. But evening finally came, and while they were eating supper Joe Hawkins arrived. He was alone.
"Thought you were going to bring someone with you?" Bud said when the greetings were over.
"Decided it wasn't necessary. We've got plenty here. Now, boys, are you all set?"
"All set!" the Kid said loudly. "Bring 'em on!"
"They'll come without us bringing them," Hawkins declared a trifle grimly. "Turn that lamp low, Dick, and let's get out of here."
"What about the Mex?" inquired the Kid.
"Bring him along," the agent declared. "Want him where I can keep an eye on him."
In spite of his wordless protests, the cook was dragged out of the kitchen and made to accompany the punchers to a place near the side of the house. And there the six men watched, each with his hand on his gun and with ears strained for the sound of a car. There was a road which ran past the ranch and into the town. It was over this road that the watching men expected the smugglers to come.
And now all settled down to a night of waiting.