While Babe Colatta’s g**g was circling around to the ruins of the old fort, Bert Cole was urging the rangy bay to its best speed, straight down the mountain, and right through the fields to the house on the hill.
He had looked eagerly for a light shining from the cupola of the big house, knowing well that it would be visible for miles around. He had just reached the lower side of the corrals when he saw a light suddenly shine forth from there. That light, he felt sure, was neither casual nor accidental. It meant that some sort of crisis was approaching inside the big house. He hoped that he would not be too late.
He tied the bay horse in the shadow of a great haystack, and hurried forward on foot. Anxious though he was to come to grips with the outlaws, he knew better than to make a stra
