"Yes," replied Jim, "if you don't mind the upper floor in case of fire."
"We must get the horses up," I said, "or the Indians will be stealing them."
"Don't you believe it," returned Jim, "those beggars are not going to risk their valuable lives. They think they have got us cold without taking any chances. All they will have to do is to squat around and wait for us to be starved out."
So we went down below where our ponies were patiently waiting, their heads drooping. They were just about played out. It had been a terrible chase and they had saved our lives by their speed and stamina.
We got them up the narrow path between the rocks. Only at one point were we exposed to the Indian fire and then we got it. An irregular succession of shots rang out and some of the bullets left their splotches on a rock above us, but most of them went very wild. The heavy rain was a veil of protection.
One thing we had learned was that the Indians were bad marksmen and were easily flurried. They were too anxious to save their own skins to take careful aim. Even when they had a good quiet chance they did not seem able to land a direct blow.
Then it is hard to shoot accurately at a steep angle; the wind too and the rain as suggested, helped us, for the latter blurred everything. So we were not greatly worried by the shooting.
In a few seconds we had got the ponies on top. And we thought they were comparatively safe, but there was one side that was lower than the others and the Indians kept potting away.
"We will soon fix that," said Jim. "Make Coyote lie down out of range."
This I had no difficulty in doing. He seemed to know instinctively what was expected of him.