The waiting
was more nerve racking than the actual combat. The only sound that broke
the stillness was the groans of the wounded, as they crawled into and
behind their tents. It would have been an easy thing to finish the work,
but none of them could fire on a helpless man, even though a murderer and
an outlaw. They had put them out of the running, and that was enough.

Then suddenly, just as they began to think that after all the bandits had
decamped, came a volley of bullets that pattered among the leaves and
thudded into the trees.

"I was sure of it," muttered Melton. "Keep dose under cover," he
commanded, "and make every shot tell."

Even as he spoke, his rifle cracked, and a crouching figure rose with a
yell, and lurched heavily forward on his face.

"One less," he grunted, "but there's still a mighty lot of them left."

The shots that had been more or less scattered now grew into a fusillade.
It was evident that the fighting was being intelligently directed, and
that the bandits were regaining confidence. Melton and the boys shot
coolly and carefully whenever they saw a head or an arm exposed, and the
yells that followed the shot told that the bullet had found its mark.
But there seemed no let up in the enemy's volleys, and what made Melton
more uneasy than anything else was that the zone of fire was steadily
widening. His long experience told him unerringly that the foe was
trying to surround them. If his little band had to face four ways at
once, it would go hard with them.

Suddenly he felt a touch on his arm. He looked up and saw the Chinaman.
The latter pointed down the road.

"Men coming," he said. "Blig lots of men. Horses too."

Melton sprang to his feet. Sure enough, there were horsemen coming up
the road. Was it a detachment of the guerilla band returning? Were they
to be taken by fresh forces in the rear? He grabbed Bert by the
shoulder.

"Here," he said, "face around with me. You other fellows stay as you
are."

They crouched low with their eyes on the road. The tramp of hoofs became
louder and the jingle of spurs and accoutrements fell upon their ears.
Then their hearts leaped, as round the curve, riding hard, swept a squad
of Mexican cavalry, fully a hundred in number, their brilliant uniforms
glittering in the sunlight. With a wild hurrah and waving their hands,
they rushed forward to meet them.

There was a hasty movement among the front ranks, as though to repel an