Wilson had been examining the revolver and belt they had taken from the prisoner, and which he had brought with him. "Fourteen in the two pistols and nearly sixty in the two belts," he said.

"We ought to be able to put up all kinds of a fight," Alex declared confidently. "That is, unless they--"

He broke off, and all leaned forward, peering down into the gloom, and listening. From a little to the left rose the clatter of a pebble. Wilson stretched himself on his face, and bent over, one of his pistols extended. Barely breathing, they waited, and again came a faint clatter as of loosened earth, nearer.

"Don't let him get too close," Alex whispered.

There came the sound of something snapping, a smothered exclamation, and instantly Wilson fired. There was a shrill cry, and the crash of something rolling downward. At the same moment from below came a crashing volley of shots, and bullets snarled upward by them like a swarm of bees.

The boys shrank back flat, then leaned over and returned two quick volleys.

Another cry indicated that one of their bullets had found a mark, and following a scattering return volley from the darkness there were sounds of a hurried scuttling for cover.

"Anyone touched?" Jack asked.

"I think I lost a little hair," said Wilson quietly.

"Me too," said Alex. "But a miss is as good as a mile, you know. And we have the advantage so far."

"Sh!" warned Jack. In the silence came the sound of running footsteps farther up the gully, followed by a continuous rattle of falling stones.

"They're making a rush up another path. Quick, and stop them!" exclaimed Wilson, starting to his feet.

"Hold on," Alex interrupted as they reached the crest of the slope.

"Perhaps it's a ruse to get us away, so they can start the fire. You two run and chase them down, and I'll stay and watch here. If you need help, shout."

Wilson and Jack sprang away along the brink of the ravine. A hundred yards distant the sounds of men ascending rose from directly beneath them. Without pause they fired. Cries of rage followed, and as the boys dropped to the ground a dozen bullets whined over them. Promptly Wilson replied with the entire seven shots from one of his pistols, there was a crash as of someone falling, then a general scrambling as the entire party apparently tumbled precipitately down the steep slope. Rising to their feet, the boys fired several more shots, and hastened back toward Alex.

As they neared him the crash of his rifle told he had guessed rightly that another attempt would be made to light the fire.

"Quick!" he said, slamming the loading mechanism. "They're sticking to it!"

Wilson and Jack saw several twinkling flames, and the roar of Alex's next shot was followed by the crash of their own weapons. A cry of agony followed, and one of the lights disappeared. Another faltered, and also went out.

Alex once more brought up his rifle, took careful aim; the jet of flame leaped from the muzzle, and with a shout the boys saw the last spot of light describe an arc in the air, and go out.

An angry howl followed, then a continuous volley from several different points. The spirit of fight had taken full possession of the three lads on the brink of the ravine, however, and lying close, they gave back shot for shot, quickly but steadily. Finally a lull came, and Alex rose exultingly on an elbow and shouted below, "Come on, you cowards! Come--"

From behind one of the bridge pillars leaped a flame, and with a sharp intake of breath Alex slipped sideways. But as Wilson and Jack sprang to his side he again rose. "It's nothing," he declared. "Just a graze inside the arm."

The quiet continuing, the others insisted on removing Alex's coat, and feeling, found the shirt-sleeve wet. "Tie a handkerchief round it," Alex directed. "There. That's all right.

"That's what I get for allowing myself to be carried away, isn't it?" he added as Wilson and Jack helped him into his coat. "I didn't realize how--"

All three s.n.a.t.c.hed up their weapons and spun about.

A tall stooped figure was standing within a few feet of them.

"Surrender!" cried Wilson. "_Quick, or I'll--_"

"It me, Little Hawk," said a quiet voice. "Why shoot?"

With a common cry of joy the boys sprang forward, and quickly explained the situation. The Indian grunted. "Not K. & Z. man," he said. "Bad cowboy, miner, gambler, from Yellow Creek. Makeum big bet K. & Z. win, come burn bridge, makeum win. Little Hawk hearum talk, come follow, hearum fight, come quick.

"Think.u.m big fight. Only three boy fight, eh?" he added in surprise.

Alex had been considering. "Look here, Little Hawk," he suggested, "you ride back to the construction-train and give the alarm, will you? I think we have these fellows scared now, and can hold them till help comes. And none of us could ride that pony of yours."

"I findum nother hoss--cowboy hoss," said the Indian, pointing the way he had come. "You go, takeum, Little Hawk stay fight."

Alex thought a minute. "No; I'd rather stick, and see the thing through, now," he declared.

"Me too," said Jack promptly.

"Same here," Wilson agreed.

"It's up to you, then, Little Hawk.

"Say, hold on!" Alex interrupted as the Indian turned away. "Boys, how about Little Hawk taking our prisoner back with him on the other horse?

The folks at the train might get some information out of him.

"Could you take him, Little Hawk?" he asked.

The redskin grunted a.s.sent. "Tieum to saddle," he said.

"I'll go and show him where the rascal is," volunteered Wilson.

A few minutes later, with the boys' prisoner trailing behind, securely bound to the saddle of the wandering horse he had picked up, the Indian was off across the plain to the west at the top of his mottled pony's speed.

When Wilson returned to Alex and Jack he found them busy constructing a miniature block-house of ties they had thrown from a neighboring car.

"That's the idea," he said, joining them. "We could hold out in that all night, easily."

"No; leave that opening, Wilse," Jack interposed as Wilson began closing a gap at one of the corners. "That's to command the bridge. We're going to fire through, not over."

The boys had just completed their little fort when from the top of the gully immediately opposite came a spit of flame, followed by the plaintive hum of a pistol bullet above them. Promptly they dropped below the ties, and Alex, who had that side, aimed toward the spot at which he had seen the flash, and as it spat out again, crashed back with his Winchester. From several points along the opposite level a ragged fire followed, and continued intermittently.

Then finally, as the boys had half expected, there came a smattering volley from amid the cars on the sidings behind them. The body of their a.s.sailants had reached the surface on their side.

Now it was that the three began to experience their first real anxiety.

For despite their show of confidence to one another, each secretly knew that if a determined rush was made from near at hand, there was scarcely an even chance of their standing it off.

As a provision against this eventuality Wilson did very little firing during the almost steady exchange of shots that followed, keeping the chambers of his two revolvers always full. To the same end, Alex and Jack used their magazine-rifles as single-shots, holding the magazines, fully charged, in reserve.

"I think I'm getting one of them now and then," Alex was saying about half an hour after the disappearance of the Indian. "Or else--" He broke off to fire again. "Unless their ammunition is giving out over there."

Suddenly Jack snapped open his magazine. "Here they come!" he whispered.

Alex scrambled about beside him. Wilson thrust the pistol-barrels through the loop-hole.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WITH THE BOYS' PRISONER SECURELY BOUND TO THE SADDLE OF THE WANDERING HORSE, THE INDIAN WAS OFF ACROSS THE PLAIN.]