in peace, they must suffer the consequences.

This is what they said; but neither Glen nor "Billy" Brackett understood
a word of it. They were preparing to defend themselves, as well as they
could, from the scowling Indians, who were again advancing upon them
with drawn knives.

Both Glen and his companion had their rifles, and now, as they stepped
slowly backward, they held them ready for instant use.

"We won't fire," said "Billy" Brackett, "unless they point a gun or an
arrow at us; for the first shot will be the signal for a rush, and if
they make that we haven't got a living show."

All this time the Indians, to the number of a dozen or so, advanced
steadily, taking step for step with the whites, as they fell back, and
watching for a chance to get past or around the black muzzles of those
rifles.

Chapter XXXV.

EL MORO.

To Glen Eddy and "Billy" Brackett the situation looked serious, and
almost desperate, as they confronted that crowd of angry savages who
advanced towards them so steadily, and with such unmistakable meaning.

"It's a tough outlook for us," muttered the latter.

"Yes," answered Glen, "it is, but--" Here the boy clinched his teeth,
and clutched his rifle more firmly.

"Look out!" cried the other, noticing that the Indians were gathering
themselves for a rush. "They're coming!" and he raised his rifle.

In another instant he would have fired, and their fate would have been
sealed. But their time had not yet come; for, at that same moment,
another figure bounded down the low bank, and stood beside them facing
the Indians, and speaking angrily to them in Spanish. They evidently
understood him, and hesitated. He was the Mexican axeman.

"What is the trouble, Mr. Brackett?" he asked hurriedly, in English.

With a few words they made the situation clear to him, and he, in turn,
quickly explained to the Indians that these white men had merely tried
to save their lives by preventing them from eating poisoned meat.

"Tell them to look at the dog!" cried Glen, pointing to the poor animal
that had swallowed the very bit of meat he had snatched from the Indian,
and which was evidently dying.

The sight was a powerful argument, worth more than all the words that
could have been spoken.

The Indians sullenly returned to their fire and sat down, while our
friends, casting many watchful glances over their shoulders as they
went, made good their retreat in the direction of their own camp.