"
For nearly an hour Bevans kept his position. Hicks, if he were in the
vicinity, kept closely under cover. Bevans had all the best of the
situation, so far as being able to keep a lookout was a factor; the
opposite bank of the coulee we were in towered high above us, and shut
off our view in that direction. And we didn't dare risk showing
ourselves on high ground. Finally, after what seemed an interminable
period of waiting, Mac's patience frazzled out and he declared for
action.
"We're doing no good here," he said. "Hicks or no Hicks, I'm going to
have a try at making connections with his nibs on that hill. I think the
coulee right under his perch is an arm of the one we're in; runs in
somewhere below. Maybe we can get to him that way. It's worth trying."
As MacRae had surmised, our canyon forked below. We turned the point
after making sure that Bevans couldn't see us unless he moved. But the
uncertain beggar had moved, and moved to some purpose we quickly
learned; for when we next laid eyes on him he was out on the extreme
point of the little bench, opposite the mouth of the coulee we had
ascended, whirling his horse about in cramped circles. And in answer to
his signaling a full score of red-jacketed riders were galloping down
the ridges, a human comb that bade fair to rake us from our concealment
in a scant number of minutes.
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