"Where was that rifle?" he inquired, sharply.
"Ovair yondair—not on de ridge," replied Laguerre.
"That's what I thought. Maybe—there she goes again. Two of 'em."
The rifles on the ridge snarled angrily. But no bullets struck the breastwork. The barking of the deputies' rifles became irregular, drifted southward, then ceased altogether. A few minutes later five horsemen and a led horse crossed the draw a mile to the south.
"Two of 'em hit bad," declared Loudon.
"Yuh bet yuh," said Laguerre. "See dat! One of 'em tumble off."
"They're gettin' him aboard again. Takin' our hosses along, the skunks! There goes our friend out yonder."
The man who had been watching the rear of the breast-work galloped to meet his friends. Five minutes later they all disappeared behind one of the western hills.
"Hey, you fellers!" bawled a voice from the shelter of the ridge across the valley. "Where are yuh, anyway?"
"That's Red Kane," laughed Loudon, and stood up. "Here we are!" he yelled. "C'mon over! We're all right. Not a scratch!"