tters," was the
response, as the corpulent Teuton hastened off to get the tools.

At the part of the stockade at which they now were standing a ladder,
used in some repairing job, still leaned against the high, wooden
fence. Coyote Pete, struck by a sudden idea, clambered up it, and
gazed over the top of the defensive barricade. As his head topped the
summit, he gave a shout and rapidly ducked. At the same instant a
sound, like the hum of an angry bee, buzzed above their heads.

"A bullet!" gasped Buck Bradley.

"That's wot, pod'ner," rejoined Pete, "and it's the first of a whole
flock of such like. The country off to the southwest is jest alive
with insurrectos!"

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ATTACK ON THE MINE.

Flinging his legs over each side of the ladder, Coyote Pete slid to the
ground like a boy sliding down a cellar door.

"I could catch the glint of sunlight on their rifles," he explained.
"The beggars were trying to approach unseen, though, I guess, for they
were sneaking round a neck of woods so as to take advantage of that
arroyo that runs almost up to the mine. Better get busy with that
borer."

And "get busy" they did. Holes were rapidly bored in the stockade, the
apertures being of sufficient size to accommodate comfortably the
muzzle of a rifle. Above each such hole another was bored, to enable
the defenders to see the position of their foes. Although this work
took more than an hour, there was still no sign of the enemy. But they
evidently had a close watch kept on the mine, for a hat elevated on a
long stick above the top of the stockade was promptly riddled with
bullets.

"Jingo!" gasped Jack. "Those fellows mean business."

"What do you suppose they are going to do?" Walt asked Buck Bradley.
The stout showman looked grave.

"This hanging back looks bad," he rejoined. "I guess they are waiting
till dusk so as to try and catch us unprepared. Evidently they figger
they've got us where they want us, and there is no use being in a rush
about finishing us up."

Buck's words were grim, but his expression was grimmer yet. The former
ranch boss had been in many a tough place in his day, but revolving the
situation in his mind he could not call to recollection any more
dangerous circumstances than those in which he now found himself.

"Bottled and corked," was the way he expressed it to Coyote Pete, who
fully shared his apprehensions.

Fortunately, behind the office of the mine, the