“We’ve plenty of ammunition. Let ‘em shoot. They may not hit any redskins, but they’ll scare ‘em.”
“We can hold out here—if the troopers hurry back,” said Neale.
“Sure. But maybe they’re hard at it, too. I’ve no hope this is the same bunch of Sioux that held up the work-train.”
“Neither have I. And if the troops don’t get here before dark—”
Neale halted, and Baxter shook his gray head.
“That would be bad,” he said. “But we’ve squeezed out of narrow places before, buildin’ this U. P. R.”
Neale found the women in the large room, between the corner of the walls and a huge stone fireplace. They were quiet. Allie leaped at sight of Neale. Her hands trembled as she grasped him.
“Neale!” she whispered. “I saw Fresno!”
“Who’s he?” queried Neale, blankly.
“He’s one of Durade’s gang.”