EMMA DEAN uttered a cry of alarm.
“Be an Overton girl,” admonished Elfreda Briggs.
“I—I can’t help it. I—I’m afraid,” wailed Emma, starting for her tent where she threw herself on her cot and gave way to tears.
Grace, in the meantime, was making suggestions to Hippy as to how the camp should beguarded during the rest of the night. After he had faithfully promised that he would never again nap, Grace turned toward her own tent.
It was fully an hour later before Grace succeeded in quieting her nerves sufficiently to permit her to go to sleep. She awakened with a start a few moments later. After listening and hearing nothing, Grace decided that hers was wholly a case of nerves, and again tried to sleep.
It was useless. She could not make her eyelids stay closed.
A figure darkened the tent opening.
“Grace!” called Lieutenant Wingate in a low, guarded voice.
“Yes? What is it?” she demanded.
“There’s a bunch of prowlers near where the ponies were, but what they are doing I can’t make out without going down there. I thought best to call you first.”
“Go away while I dress! I will be with you in a moment. Don’t awaken the girls just yet.”
“Where are they?” she whispered, stepping up beside him.
Hippy pointed towards the creek.
“I don’t see them now, but I did just before you came out,” he said.
“Hold your place, please, and keep a sharplookout. I want to take a look from the other side of the camp.” Grace crept away in the darkness, but in a few moments came back.
“They are up near the trail now, and I think they are mounted, for I heard a horse whinney,” declared Grace. Running to the tents she awakened her companions. Elfreda was directed to take her place out in front, with Lieutenant Wingate and Grace, to assist in defending the camp.
The three defenders were armed with rifles, in addition to which Hippy and Grace each carried a revolver.
“What is the plan?” questioned Hippy, seeking final directions.
“Should we be shot at we will shoot back. That’s all I can say in advance,” replied Grace.
“Can they see us, Loyalheart?” whispered Miss Briggs.
“No, I think not. The camp lies in a deep shadow and we have no fire burning. Hark!”
“I hear it,” muttered Lieutenant Wingate. “I hear horses trotting.”
“Hold your fire and await developments. We must not make the mistake of shooting at some one who doesn’t deserve it,” cautioned Grace.
“Merciful heaven! What is that?” cried J. Elfreda.
A shrill, weird yell, which Grace instantly recognized as an Indian war whoop, split the stillness of mountain and canyon. Many had been the time in the forest depths that Grace Harlowe’s husband had uttered this thrilling war cry for her benefit, in fact he had taught Grace herself to do it.
“A war whoop,” she answered.
“Steady, girls! We’re going to get it,” warned Hippy.
“Down flat, everybody!” called Grace.
The hoof-beats of the galloping horses of the night marauders were now plainly heard by each member of the Overton party. Another yell, then a rattling rifle fire swept the camp.
“Shall we shoot?” questioned Elfreda anxiously.
“No, not yet,” answered Grace briefly.
“I think they are going to circle the camp,” volunteered Lieutenant Wingate.
“We will wait until they have made the circuit, then let them have it, unless you have a better plan, Lieutenant. Every one keep down as low as possible and take no chances,” she called to Nora, Anne and Emma. The three defenders assumed a crouching attitude and waited.
The attackers were howling and shooting at the same time, their bullets being fired so lowthat Grace feared some of her party would be hit. Horses and men out there in the valley were dim shadows, unreal to the little group of defenders, but real enough when it came to the rifles that were sending out darting flashes of fire and whistling bullets.
As the riders completed their first circuit of the camp and drew in closer, Lieutenant Wingate, without waiting for further orders, threw the rifle to his shoulder and fired. A few seconds later, Grace followed with a shot, then Miss Briggs pulled the trigger of her weapon.
“Keep it up!” urged Hippy. “Follow them all the way around with your fire, and take advantage of all the cover you can find.”
The Overton outfit was in the fight in deadly earnest now. Darting here and there to keep the attackers in view, the two girls and Lieutenant Wingate continued to fire their rifles until at least two shoulders were aching from the kick of the weapons.
The spirited defense of the three plucky campers must have amazed their assailants, for the men drew off a little and cut a wider circle on the next circuit of the camp, but still keeping up and receiving a rapid fire all the way around.
“Look out! They’ve changed their tactics,” warned Hippy. “They’re charging us, the fools! Hold fire till they’re in easy reach, thengive it to ’em! Just let it slowly peter out now. Don’t cut it off all at once.”
The Overton fire was permitted to die out by degrees, finally ceasing altogether. The strategy of Grace and Hippy had accomplished what they wished it to do—it had made the attackers careless, they evidently surmising from the way the firing died away, that the defenders either had been killed or wounded.
Uttering shrill yells, and shooting, it seemed, with every jump of their horses, the night riders swept down on the little camp in Squaw Valley, determined to put a speedy finish to their work.
“Ready! Fire!” commanded Lieutenant Wingate.
The defenders opened up on the advancing horsemen, firing as rapidly as they could pull the triggers of their rifles. A moment or so of this, apparently, was enough for the attackers, who suddenly whirled and raced their horses further out, where they again began shooting, with bullets from the camp still following them.
“We have ’em on the run! Keep ’em going!” urged Hippy, trying to locate their assailants, whose rifles, at that instant, had suddenly ceased firing. Now and then one or another of the defenders, discovering a movement among the marauders, would shoot, but such shots elicited no reply.
Hippy finally advised that the defenders divide their force, and each take a side of the camp to avoid a surprise, which was done.
“Is it all over?” cried Emma Dean from her hiding place.
“We hope so, but keep down close to the ground for the present,” advised Miss Briggs. “Are you girls all right?”
“Yes, but not riotously happy,” returned Anne.
“The attackers, I should say, are less so; therefore, don’t worry,” answered Elfreda.
To the great relief of the campers, not another shot was fired in Squaw Valley that night, the attackers having disappeared as mysteriously as they came, nor did the Overton party know whether they had been attacked by white men or Indians.
“All over but the shouting,” cried Hippy, as the day began to dawn, laying his rifle aside. “Hey! What’s that out there?” he demanded, pointing to an object that lay some two hundred yards from the camp.
“I believe it is a horse! Hippy Wingate, we have killed a horse!” exclaimed Grace Harlowe in amazement. “Oh, that is too bad!”
“Burning shame!” chortled Hippy.
“Yes, and there is another one down near the creek,” added Miss Briggs excitedly.
“I did it with my trusty rifle,” cried Hippy boastfully.
“You are welcome to all the glory there is,” answered Grace. “Shall we have a look at the animals? Perhaps we may learn something. Come! We will take our rifles with us.”
The Overton defenders had succeeded better than they knew. Not only had they driven off a superior number of desperate men, but they had shot from under their attackers two horses, and possibly downed as many riders.