They exchanged weapons. Steve had already made up his mind exactly what was best to do.
"I'm going to stay here awhile and hold them back. You go on with Ruth, Frank. Leave a horse for me. I'll be along later," he explained.
"We're not going away to leave you here," protested Ruth indignantly.
His voice was so matter of fact and his manner so competent that she had already drawn back, half ashamed, from the caressing support to which her feelings had driven her.
He turned on her eyes cool and steely. "You're going to do as I say, girl. You're wasting time for all of us every moment you stay. Take her, Frank."
Farrar spoke in a low voice of troubled doubt. "But what are you going to do, Steve? We can't leave you here."
The bullets of the Mexicans were searching the grove for them. Any moment one might find a mark.
The range-rider made a gesture of angry impatience. "You obey orders fine, don't you?" His face flashed sudden anger. "Get out. I know my plans, don't I? Pull your freight. Vamos!"
"And you'll be along later, will you?"
"Of course I will. I've got it all arranged. Hurry, or it will be too late."