We're in bad,
and the bigger bluff we put up the more likely our chance."
"Belding, you're an officer of the United States. Mexicans are
much impressed by show of authority. I've seen that often in camp,"
said Thorne.
"Oh, I know the white-livered Greasers better than any of you, don't
mistake me," replied Belding. He was pale with rage, but kept
command over himself.
The rangers, with Yaqui and Thorne, stationed themselves at the
several windows of the sitting-room. Rifles and smaller arms and
boxes of shells littered the tables and window seats. No small
force of besiegers could overcome a resistance such as Belding
and his men were capable of making.
"Here they come, boys," called Gale, from his window.
"Rebel-raiders I should say, Laddy."
"Shore. An' a fine outfit of buzzards!"
"Reckon there's about a dozen in the bunch," observed the calm
Lash. "Some hosses they're ridin'. Where 'n the hell do they get
such hosses, anyhow?"
"Shore, Jim, they work hard an' buy 'em with real silver pesos,"
replied Ladd, sarcastically.
"Do any of you see Rojas?" whispered Thorne.
"Nix. No dandy bandit in that outfit."
"It's too far to see," said Gale.
The horsemen halted at the corrals. They were orderly and showed
no evidence of hostility. They were, however, fully armed. Belding
stalked out to meet them. Apparently a leader wanted to parley
with him, but Belding would hear nothing. He shook his head, waved
his arms, stamped to and fro, and his loud, angry voice could be
heard clear back at the house.
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