“Bascomb and Bernritter are as good as in the Phœnix jail this minute. If they make any more trouble it will go all the harder with them. Go to the island and get the two horses. If the harness is on the island, see that it is on the horses. Do this, and when I turn Hendricks and Banks loose you can go with them.” “Let me have one o’ my guns,” pleaded Giles. “Nary a gun, Giles. You’ll have to do this with your bare hands.” “Waal, here goes.” Giles sprang to the causeway and started across. A bullet was launched at him by Bascomb and Bernritter. “Let up on that, you fellers!” howled Giles. “It’s me, Giles.” “Come ahead, then,” called Bascomb. Giles hurried on, and finally vanished in the shadows of the rocks. “That will make three on the island,” said Dell, “and probably Bascomb and Bernritter will be able to give Giles a weapon.” “What if they do?” the scout answered. “With some one here to guard the causeway, half a dozen men would be as secure on that island as though they were locked in a cell. Giles may get the horses, or he may not. We’ll see.” Sounds of conversation floated across the bubbling sands from the island, and it was apparent that Giles was telling how the resourceful scout had accomplished his coup. Presently the voices died away, and then, a little later, some one could be seen leading two horses. The horses were in single file, Giles leading the first, and the one behind tied to its mate in front. “They’re letting the horses come without a word of protest,” remarked the scout, peering warily at the approaching animals. “They may be up to some job or other, Buffalo Bill,” warned Dell. “They are,” returned the scout grimly. “Bascomb and Bernritter are each walking on the off-side of one of the horses.” The thump of hoofs on the boards, and the snorting of the horses, drowned the footfalls of Bascomb and Bernritter, but the scout could see their legs plainly under the horses’ bodies. “Stop, Giles!” shouted the scout. “Kain’t stop!” answered Giles, in a flutter. “If we stand still the boards’ll sink under us. We got ter keep movin’. The hosses weighs more’n what a man does.” “I don’t like to see Bascomb and Bernritter coming across with you,” shouted the scout. “Stand still, for I’m going to shoot.” Giles gave vent to a terrified yell, but he halted. The scout fired, and his bullet, passing under the body of one of the horses, seared Bascomb’s leg. Bascomb yelled and leaped back toward the shore of the island. Bernritter followed him. “Come on, Giles!” ordered the scout, “and come quick. Bascomb,” he added, addressing the black shore of the island, “if you or Bernritter do any more shooting, or make any more trouble, it will go all the harder with you. You’re as good as captured, and you ought to know it.” A defiant shout was returned from the island; but neither Bascomb nor Bernritter indulged in any more shooting.