"Came too late for an echo," Big Bill said.
Again faintly from some far corner of the basin the sound drifted. It was like the pop of a scarcely heard firecracker.
The men looked at one another and at their prisoner. Their eyes consulted once more.
"Think we better break camp and drift?" asked Dud.
"No. We're in a little draw here—as good a hiding-place as we'd be likely to find. Drive the horses into the brush, George. We'll sit tight."
"Got the criminals guessing," Holt contributed maliciously. "You lads want to take the hide offen Macy if he lands you in the pen through that fool shot of his. Wonder if I hadn't better yell."
"I'll stop your clock right then if you do," threatened Big Bill with a scowl.
Dud had been busy stamping out the camp-fire while Holway was driving the horses into the brush.
"Mebbe you had better get the camp things behind them big rocks," Macy conceded.