"Yes, it's here, but hurry and get started!" Ned continued, from the darker depths beyond. Of course, when the others heard that there was an opportunity to creep out of the fire zone they lost no time in making a move. Jimmy was declaring at the same time that it certainly gave him a pain to be compelled to "take water" in that way, and without having inflicted any material damage that they knew of on the enemy. "If we'd only knocked half a dozen of the skunks off their pins, it wouldn't be so bad," he lamented; "but I ain't had any chance. It ain't fair, that's what; and me just crazy to try my Marlin on that lot of mutts. But wait, that's all; my time's agoin' to come yet, and then, look out, that's what!" When they had backed some ten feet or more they came to the wall of the canyon. Ned was waiting to show them where he had found a fissure into which he must undoubtedly have crawled some little ways, seeking to find out what sort of a haven of refuge it would turn out to be. "I struck a match," he told his comrades, as they pushed into the split in the wall, "and as near as I could make out, there's a little cave right here. We'll take possession and hold the fort against a hundred enemies." "Hurrah! that's right, we will!" shrilled the irrepressible Jimmy, always quick to seize upon any excuse for giving tongue. Already they seemed to have passed beyond the reach of the flying bullets, although, of course, the ambitious rustlers did not know that and were still banging away right merrily. "If only they'd keep that up until they'd fired away every scrap of their ammunition, wouldn't it be just fine," Harry suggested, "then we could go out and do a little holding-up on our own hook." Ned lighted another match, so that all of them might see what manner of refuge had been found in this emergency. It turned out to be a fair-sized cavity, nothing unusual, but capable of answering their needs. There was, of course, no way of blocking the entrance, but with four guns to stand guard there did not seem to be much reason to fear that the enemy could ever rush their fortress. "But it makes me clear mad to think that while we're cooped up here, like rats in a trap, that crowd can hunt around for our ponies and get away with the lot," Jack complained. At that Jimmy raised a row. "And that'd be the last I'd see of my calico broncho, just when I was growing attached to him, too!" he bleated. "But from what you told us," Jack remarked, bitingly, "there was a time when you had to throw your arms around his neck in order to become _attached_ to him. But never mind, Jimmy, the rustler that gets your Spot will be sorry for it, if I'm any judge of tricky horses. It may be the best thing that ever happened to you. Some times blessings come in disguise; and, if the pony's stolen, it may save you from getting a broken collarbone."