She was called out of her slumber.  Day had broken bright and cool.  The sun was still below the eastern crags.  Ambrose, with several other cowboys, had brought up buckets of spring-water, and hot coffee and cakes.  Madeline’s party appeared to be none the worse for the night’s experience.  Indeed, the meager breakfast might have been as merrily partaken of as it was hungrily had not Ambrose enjoined silence.

“They’re expectin’ company down below,” he said.

This information and the summary manner in which the cowboys soon led the party higher up among the ruined shelves of rock caused a recurrence of anxiety.  Madeline insisted on not going beyond a projection of cliff from which she could see directly down into the camp.  As the vantage-point was one affording concealment, Ambrose consented, but he placed the frightened Christine near Madeline and remained there himself.

“Ambrose, do you really think the guerrillas will come?” asked Madeline.

“Sure.  We know.  Nels just rode in and said they were on their way up.  Miss Hammond, can I trust you?  You won’t let out a squeal if there’s a fight down there?  Stewart told me to hide you out of sight or keep you from lookin’.”

“I promise not to make any noise,” replied Madeline.  Madeline arranged her coat so that she could lie upon it, and settled down to wait developments.  There came a slight rattling of stones in the rear.  She turned to see Helen sliding down a bank with a perplexed and troubled cowboy.  Helen came stooping low to where Madeline lay and said:  “I am going to see what happens, if I die in the attempt!  I can stand it if you can.”  She was pale and big-eyed.  Ambrose promptly swore at the cowboy who had let her get away from him.  “Take a half-hitch on her yourself an’ see where you end up,” replied the fellow, and disappeared in the jumble of rocks.  Ambrose, finding words useless, sternly and heroically prepared to carry Helen back to the others.  He laid hold of her.  In a fury, with eyes blazing, Helen whispered: 

“Let go of me!  Majesty, what does this fool mean?”

Madeline laughed.  She knew Helen, and had marked the whisper, when ordinarily Helen would have spoken imperiously, and not low.  Madeline explained to her the exigency of the situation.  “I might run, but I’ll never scream,” said Helen.  With that Ambrose had to be content to let her stay.  However, he found her a place somewhat farther back from Madeline’s position, where he said there was less danger of her being seen.  Then he sternly bound her to silence, tarried a moment to comfort Christine, and returned to where Madeline lay concealed.  He had been there scarcely a moment when he whispered: 

“I hear hosses.  The guerrillas are comin’.”

Madeline’s hiding-place was well protected from possible discovery from below.  She could peep over a kind of parapet, through an opening in the tips of the pines that reached up to the cliff, and obtain a commanding view of the camp circle and its immediate surroundings.  She could not, however, see far either to right or left of the camp, owing to the obstructing foliage.  Presently the sound of horses’ hoofs quickened the beat of her pulse and caused her to turn keener gaze upon the cowboys below.