"I think I could hit at forty or fifty yards in this good moonlight," he
said.
He replaced the rifle across his knees and sighed. Ned was curious, but
he would not ask questions, and he walked back to his old position by
the bank. Here he made himself easy, and kept his eyes on the deep
trench that had been cut by the stream. The shadows were dark against
the bank, but it seemed to him that they were darker than they had been
before.
Ned's blood turned a little colder, and his scalp tingled. He was
startled but not afraid. He looked intently, and saw moving figures in
the river bed, keeping close against the bank. He could not see faces,
he could not even discern a clear outline of the figures, but he had no
doubt that these were Urrea's Mexicans. He waited only a moment longer
to assure himself that the dark moving line was fact and not fancy.
Then, aiming his rifle at the foremost shape, he fired. While the echo
of the sharp crack was yet speeding across the plain he cried:
"Up, men! up! Urrea is here!"
A volley came from the creek bed, but in an instant the Panther, Obed,
Will and Fields were by Ned's side.
"Down on your faces," cried the Panther, "an' pot 'em as they run! So
they thought to go aroun' the grove, come down from the north an'
surprise us this way! Give it to 'em, boys!"
The rifles flashed and the dark line in the bed of the creek now broke
into a huddle of flying forms.
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