“Open that again and I’ll blow your head off, you scoundrel!” growled Harvey.  “Don’t you dare show hair nor hide outside your room.  Every man has orders to shoot you on sight, if that’s any comfort to you.”

Only for a second had the old Mexican’s head appeared; only an instant had he for plea or protestation, but that instant had served to show a narrow streak of light from the room within, and this mere crack revealed to the watchful eyes out upon the plain the position of the ranch, possibly told them something more, for in less than half a minute two horsemen came looming up out of the darkness and cantering fearlessly towards them.  Phlegmatic as he was, old Plummer’s nerves gave a twitch as, sharp and stern, young Harvey challenged.

“Halt there!  Who are you? Halt! or we fire.”

“Friends,” shouted one voice; “Americans,” the other, as promptly the order to halt was obeyed, the trained horses going almost on their haunches under the cruel force of the huge Mexican bit.

“We are seeking Moreno’s,” continued the first voice.  “The Apaches jumped our outfit just after sunset and we had to run for it.”

“How many are there of you all told?” demanded Harvey.

“Only us two.  We’re partners, prospecting,—­been down towards the Sonora line.  For the Lord’s sake, gentlemen, don’t keep us out here.  We’ve lost everything we had,—­packs, packers, and grub.  We’re about dead beat for a drink and something to eat.”

“What do you think of this, major?” whispered Harvey.  “Those are Americans sure.”

“Well, I’d let’em in,” said the major; “but where the devil’s Feeny?  He’s the best judge, really.  Their story may be all true.  They may be alone.”

“I don’t know; it isn’t likely.  You heard that voice out there a moment ago; that was Mexican beyond any doubt.  We’ve got to stand those fellows off till we hear from Feeny.”  Then, raising his voice, Harvey called,—­

“Just stay where you are a moment.  You’re all right perhaps, but our guards have orders to be on the lookout for Morales and his gang, and you might get shot by mistake.”

“Well, for God’s sake turn out your men, if you’ve got any, and help us catch these murdering thieves,” was the impatient reply.  “How many are you?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of us here,” was Harvey’s cheery answer.  “Most of ‘C’ troop; but we’ve other business on hand just now.  You wait there quietly for a minute or two until the sergeant comes around with the patrol; he’ll see to you.”

And then, as though the whole thing had been planned beforehand, out in the darkness to the north Feeny’s voice was heard in low-toned but sharp command,—­

“Patrol, halt!  Close up there, Kennedy.  Where are you, Number Five?” And so, cool and confident as though he had a dozen troopers at his back, Feeny came striding up to the spot.

“What’s the matter, sentry?  Didn’t I hear you parleying here with somebody?”