"You two wait here, and hold my new bronc," Yellin' Kid directed softly, "an' I'll go around on foot. See how the land lays. All right, Mr. Hawkins?"
"All right, Kid. Go ahead. Then come back and tell us."
The Kid dismounted and handed his bridle rein to Nort. Then he walked carefully into the trees, and disappeared from view.
"See some action soon," Hawkins declared. He and Nort were waiting on their horses about three hundred yards from where the Kid had disappeared into the trees. "The old ranch house is right back there. And this time I want to make sure of getting the whole gang."
"Don't you think they figured we followed them, and are all set for us?"
"Maybe. Can't help that. But I'm not so sure, Nort—you know they had to get those Chinks to a place of safety. Couldn't let them wander around loose. And this was the only place they could go to. They had no choice. And whether they figured we'd follow or not, they had to dig in here."
"They sure got away neat before," Nort said, as he thought of the escape. "And if they hadn't wrecked their auto we'd probably never have seen them again. Now we've got a chance."
"Yes, and a little more than a chance. Wonder what's keeping the Kid. Told him to come right back."
"And here he comes—runnin'!" exclaimed Nort suddenly, as a figure burst into sight. "Something must be the matter!"
They spurred their horses toward the Kid, and met him half way.