With all their faculties on the stretch, they held their breaths and listened intently. Soon their eager ears caught the sound of approaching horses and the faint creak of leather. Straining their eyes in the gloom, they presently made out the forms of two riders slowly and cautiously traversing the cleared strip that lay between the fence and the line of brush.
Reaching the gate they halted, but making no attempt, as yet, to dismount or open it, remained lolling on their horses and talking in low tones.
"Waitin' for Shorty," whispered Ellis to Gallagher who, smothering a chuckle, whispered back: "Some wait!"
Even in that dim light they could see that one of the riders loomed up a big, bulky shape, in contrast to his slighter-appearing companion.
"That's Big George, all right," murmured the rancher into Benton's ear as a low, deep bass undertone rumbled to them. "Listen ter that voice o' his!"
Ready for emergencies, they quietly watched the two dark forms and patiently waited. Their vigil was short. An unmistakable, smothered oath came to their ears. The guarded, booming growl of the bigger man, became more insistent. They saw the slighter shape dismount and, presently the "tang" of a tightly stretched barbed-wire gate being released and drawn aside sounded sharply in the stillness. The big shape, still mounted, slowly disappeared into the shadows beyond, the smaller one resuming his seat in the saddle and waiting at the opening.
Feverishly the Sergeant weighed the situation. "Scotty" Robbins--and, without a doubt, it must be he--possessed an extraordinarily fast horse, he reflected. Even if he _was_ able, under the guise of Shorty, to range near enough to close, it was not particularly easy to pull a good rider like Scotty out of the saddle. He would be sure to raise a loud outcry at the first attempt, and thus warn Fisk. If he once got away, it would be futile to follow him in the dark.
The emergency caused a wild thought to flash into Benton's fertile brain. Why not _rope_ him? Long years of constant practise had rendered him clever with a lariat. It was worth trying. The tumble would insure Scotty's partial silence anyway, and Gallagher could fix the rest, leaving him free to tackle Big George, whom he knew it would be suicidal to ever call on to surrender at close range.