"Looks bad for you and me, old boy," MacRae grinned. "I see now what
brother Hicks has been up to. But they haven't got us yet. Whatever
happens, Sarge, don't get excited and go to shooting. We can't win out
that way, against this combination. If we can't dodge and outrun them
we'll have to take our medicine. Down the coulee is our only chance.
There's only Bevans to stop us; and it won't really matter if we do put
his light out--be one thief less at the finish."
Bevans, however, made no demonstration. We just got a mere glimpse of
him, and I imagine he was nowise anxious to try heading us off, which he
could not do without coming into the open. Whipping around the crooked
bends at top speed, he had little chance to pot us, and I think he had
an idea that we would cheerfully pot him if he got in the way.
We mystified them somewhat, and gained considerable ground, by that
sudden dash, but it wasn't long before they were in full cry like a pack
of hounds, and the carbines began to pop in a futile sort of way. Mac
had not been far astray when he hazarded the guess that the troop would
have orders to shoot on sight, for they began to peck at us the moment
we came in view. We had just enough of a start, though, and our mounts
were just good enough and fresh enough to gradually draw away from them.
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