the Mexicans
clattered up, riding bareback. Tom coolly reloaded his pistol.

The Mexicans, too, were dazzled from riding against the glow in the
west, and halted a moment in a confused mass at the mouth of the ravine.
The two cowboys within rose and shot rapidly. Three Mexicans and two
ponies fell. The rest in wild confusion slipped rapidly to the right and
left beyond the Americans' line of sight. Three armed with Winchesters
made a long detour and dropped quietly into the sage-brush just beyond
accurate pistol-range. There they lay concealed, watching. Then utter
silence fell.

The rising moon shone full and square into the ravine, illuminating
every inch of the ascent. A very poor shot could hardly miss in such a
light and with such a background. The two cowmen realised this and
settled down more comfortably behind their breastwork. Tom cautiously
raised the pony's head with a little chunk of rock, thus making a
loophole through which to keep tab on the enemy, after which he rolled
on his belly and began whittling in the hard clay, for Tom had the
carving habit--like many a younger boy. Alfred carefully extracted a
short pipe from beneath his chaparajos, pushed down with his blunt
forefinger the charge with which it was already loaded, and struck a
match. He poised this for a moment above the bowl of the pipe.

"What's the row anyway?" he inquired, with pardonable curiosity.

"Now, it's jest fifteen mile to th' cut," said Tom, disregarding
Alfred's question entirely, "an' of co'se they's goin' to send a posse
down thar on th' keen jump. That'll take clost onto three hours in this
light. Then they'll jest pot us a lot from on top."

Alfred puffed three times toward the moonlight, and looked as though the
thing were sufficiently obvious without wasting so much breath over it.

"We've jest _got_ to git out!" concluded Tom, earnestly.

Alfred grunted.

"An' how are we goin' to do it?"

Alfred paused in the act of blowing a cloud.

"Because, if we makes a break, those Greasers jest nat'rally plugs us
from behind th' minute we begins to climb."

Alfred condescended to nod. Tom suspended his whittling for a reply.

"Well," said Alfred, taking his pipe from his mouth--Tom contentedly
took up whittling again--"there's only one way to do it, and that's to
keep them so damn busy in front that they _can't_ plug us."

Tom looked perplexed.

"We just _got_ to take our chances on the climbing. Of course, there's
bo