" demurred the girl. "We can't leave them like this."

"Come!" repeated Clara, angrily. "Do you want to fall into their hands?"
Polly, too frightened by her tone to resist, crept softly behind her. They
heard the Indian at whom Scott had fired answer. To Polly it meant
nothing, but Clara's ears, accustomed to the tongue, caught an angry
demand for horses, food and money.

"We haven't any of those things. We've just been raided--cleaned
out--we're as poor as you are," was Scott's reply. The Indians conferred
together. "It's a question of whether they think we're lying or not," said
Scott, drily.

"Exactly. And they have unfortunately every reason to believe that a white
man usually is," replied Hard. "What's the play if they come at us?"

"Shoot as many as we can," said Scott. "They'll do the rest. That's why I
sent the women off."

"I thought so. Well, here goes. I ought to be able to get a couple before
I cash in though I'm not considered very dangerous with firearms," replied
Hard, calmly, though his heart was registering something approaching acute
blood pressure.

From the leader came in angry Spanish: "We don't believe you! We'll come
and get it."

"Come on!" yelled Herrick. Instantly, a dozen Yaquis were off their horses
and running toward the house, shooting as they came. As instantly, two of
the leaders fell in the path of the others.

"Good boy, Herrick!" cried Scott. "Let 'em have it again!" he yelled, as
the Indians, halted for a moment by the fall of their men, came on again.
The shots rang out again but this time no one fell. Hard felt something
sing by him in the darkness and thanked God that the women were not there.
Herrick rushed over for more cartridges.

"They're coming!" he shouted, excitedly.

"Let 'em come. Some of 'em are coming to something they won't like,"
growled Scott. "Look out--in the doorway!"

Two Indians had burst their way into the house, but disconcerted by its
utter darkness after the moonlight outside, paused a moment to get their
bearings. Scott, Hard and Herrick shot with one accord. One Indian came
on; the other uttered a cry of pain; then both dashed outside for the
shelter of the veranda. There was silence; the Indians hesitating in doubt
as to their companions' fate, the white men uncertain as to what form the
attack would take next.

"Are the women gone?" Herrick called softly.

"Yes," replied Hard. "Are you all right?"

"So. They whistle through my hair but t