One of the boys lighted the way to the next floor, then stepped back into the cellar, where Mr. Marquand was turning over the treasure in an effort to find out if the pile extended all the way to the bottom of the chest.

In the meantime Kris Kringle unbarred the door and threw it part way open. He did it cautiously, as if half expecting trouble.

He threw the door to with a bang, springing to one side, and dropping the bar back into place.

The reason for his sudden change of plans was that no sooner had the door opened than several thirty-eight calibre bullets were fired from the sage brush outside.

Kris Kringle waited to learn whether those in the cellar had heard the shots. But they had not. They were some distance below ground, and their minds were wholly taken up with the great treasure before them.

After a few moments the guide once more removed the bar, first having drawn his revolver in case of sudden surprise. Then he cautiously opened the door an inch or so.

At first nothing happened. The moonlit landscape lay as silent and peaceful as if there were not a human being on the desert.

There were six distinct flashes all at once and a rain of lead showered into the door.

Kris Kringle took a pot shot at one of the flashes, then slammed the door shut and barred it.

"Well; I hope that would get you," he muttered.

Hastily retracing his steps he called the party up to the second cellar.

"Did you fetch the sacks?" called Mr. Marquand.

"No, but I've fetched trouble. It's coming in sackfuls."

"What do you mean?"

"We're besieged."

"Besieged?" wondered the Professor.

"Yes; there's a crowd outside, and they've been trying to shoot me up.

Must be some of your friends, Mr. Marquand."

"Lasar and Comstock? The scoundrels!" growled Mr. Marquand. "But we'll make short work of them."

"Not so easy as you think There are more than two out there--there's a crowd and they've got rifles. Our rifles are over in the camp. I've got a six-shooter and so have you, but what do they amount to against half a dozen rifles?"

"I'll talk to them, if I can get any place to make them hear,"

announced Mr. Marquand, starting up the stairs.

"I reckon there's a window on the second floor, but you'd better be careful that you don't get winged," warned the guide.

Mr. Marquand went right on, and the others followed. As the guide had said there was a small window on the floor above the ground, apparently the only one in the house.

Mr. Marquand hailed the besiegers.

"Who are you and what do you mean by shooting us up in this fashion?"

he demanded.

"You ought to know who we are, Jim Marquand, and you know what we want!"

"Yes, I know you all right, Lasar, and I'll make you smart for this."

"The place is as much mine as it is yours," answered Lasar. "And I propose to take it! If you'll make an even divvy of what you have found, or expect to find, we'll go away and let you alone. If you don't we'll take the whole outfit."

"Take it, take it!" jeered Marquand. "You couldn't take it in a hundred years--not unless you used artillery."

"Then we'll starve you out," replied the man in the sage brush.

"Look out!" warned the guide.

Mr. Marquand sprang to one side just as a volley crashed through the opening, the bullets rattling to the floor after bounding back from the flint-like walls.

"I guess they've got you, Mr. Marquand. We can't hold out forever. If we had rifles we could pick them off by daylight. But when morning comes they'll draw back out of revolver range and plunk the first man who shows himself outside. Have you any t.i.tle to this property?"

"Yes. I have bought up a hundred acres about here. The deeds are in my pocket. I guess n.o.body has a better t.i.tle.".

"His t.i.tle is all right," spoke up Professor Zepplin. "I made sure of that before I decided to come with Mr. Marquand."

"Then there's only one thing to be done."

"What's that?"

"Get a sheriff's posse and bag the whole bunch."

Mr. Marquand laughed harshly.

"If we were in a position to get a posse we should be able to get away without one. I think we had better go below. This is not a very safe place with this open window."

"I'll remain here."

"What for, Kringle?"

"Somebody's got to watch the front door to see that they don't play any tricks on us. It's clouding up, and if the night gets dark they'll try to get in."

"How far is it to a place where we could get a sheriff?" asked Tad, who had been thinking deeply.

"Hondo. Fifteen miles due east of here as the moon rises. Why?"

"If I were sure I could find my way, I think I might get some help,"

answered the lad quietly.

"You!" snapped Mr. Marquand, turning on him.

"If I had a rope. Perhaps I can do it without one."

"I'd like to know how?"