With magnificent bound Stewart was upon him.  The guerrilla’s cry was throttled in his throat.  A fierce wrestling ensued, too swift to see clearly; then heavy, sodden blows, and Don Carlos was beaten to the ground.  Stewart leaped back.  Then, crouching with his hands on the butts of guns at his hips, he yelled, he thundered at the guerrillas.  He had been quicker than a panther, and now his voice was so terrible that it curdled Madeline’s blood, and the menace of deadly violence in his crouching position made her shut her eyes.  But she had to open them.  In that single instant Nels and Monty had leaped to Stewart’s side.  Both were bent down, with hands on the butts of guns at their hips.  Nels’s piercing yell seemed to divide Monty’s roar of rage.  Then they ceased, and echoes clapped from the crags.  The silence of those three men crouching like tigers about to leap was more menacing than the nerve-racking yells.

Then the guerrillas wavered and broke and ran for their horses.  Don Carlos rolled over, rose, and staggered away, to be helped upon his mount.  He looked back, his pale and bloody face that of a thwarted demon.  The whole band got into action and were gone in a moment.

“I knew it,” declared Ambrose.  “Never seen a Greaser who could face gun-play.  That was some warm.  And Monty Price never flashed a gun!  He’ll never get over that.  I reckon, Miss Harnmond, we’re some lucky to avoid trouble.  Gene had his way, as you seen.  We’ll be makin’ tracks for the ranch in about two shakes.”

“Why?” whispered Madeline, breathlessly.  She became conscious that she was weak and shaken.

“Because the guerrillas sure will get their nerve back, and come sneakin’ on our trail or try to head us off by ambushin’,” replied Ambrose.  “That’s their way.  Otherwise three cowboys couldn’t bluff a whole gang like that.  Gene knows the nature of Greasers.  They’re white-livered.  But I reckon we’re in more danger now than before, unless we get a good start down the mountain.  There!  Gene’s callin’.  Come!  Hurry!”

Helen had slipped down from her vantage-point, and therefore had not seen the last act in that little camp-fire drama.  It seemed, however, that her desire for excitement was satisfied, for her face was pale and she trembled when she asked if the guerrillas were gone.

“I didn’t see the finish, but those horrible yells were enough for me.”

Ambrose hurried the three women over the rough rocks, down the cliff.  The cowboys below were saddling horses in haste.  Evidently all the horses had been brought out of hiding.  Swiftly, with regard only for life and limb, Madeline, Helen, and Christine were lowered by lassoes and half carried down to the level.  By the time they were safely down the other members of the party appeared on the cliff above.  They were in excellent spirits, appearing to treat the matter as a huge joke.