"Yes, but we will be lucky if we don't get a belly full of lead," warned Frank with his customary pessimism. By this time they had come within sight of the cabin, but still, no sign of life was discoverable to their keen eyes. The place might have been deserted for aught they could observe. The leader decided to wait, and, placing a man on either side of the clearing so that no one could leave the place without being seen by one of them, the bandits settled down as patiently as their empty stomachs would permit. They were well supplied with rifles and ammunition, provided for them by Dew Drop, and so far as fire arms were concerned were in position to do effective work. "Why not give 'em a volley?" suggested Comanche Tony. "Yes, and probably kill Jess," growled Frank. "That would be a fool thing to do for sure." "I've got a plan," suggested Wild Bill. "If there's any duffers inside, it'll smoke 'em out sure enough, I reckon." "Quick, out with it," commanded their leader. "We must do something." "It's this. Supposing one of us goes over to the corral there and cuts out a hoss. Let him bring the critter along and tether him out here somewhere in the bushes. I reckon they'll show their hand about that time if there's anybody there," grinned Bill. Frank appreciated the force of the argument. "I should imagine they would," he agreed. "Better leave your rifle here, but see to it that your side arms are in working order. We will support you from the bushes with our rifles if necessary." Wild Bill, skirting the clearing, kept well within the line of trees until he had arrived opposite the corral. The latter now being between him and the cabin, effectually screened his approach to the horses. There still was no movement about the place, and the bandit, crouching low, roped a fine, rangy thorough-bred and led it out through the rear of the corral where saddles and bridles were hanging in a row on the fence. "This is like gittin' money from home," muttered Bill as he saddled and bridled the supple-limbed animal. All being in readiness, the hardy desperado swung himself into the saddle. But instead of adopting the safer course and cutting into the forest at his right, Bill dug the rowels of his spurs into the sleek sides of his mount, and with a wild whoop dashed straight across the clearing to where his companions were waiting with guns trained on the cabin. To their surprise and mystification, however, not a word nor protest was raised from the mysterious cabin. "Well, I'll be--" began Bill, pulling up and surveying the clearing in perplexity. "Try it again," suggested Frank. "We have got a good horse, anyhow. Go back the way you went before, don't hurry. If they see the performance is not to be repeated they will turn their attention this way." The desperado's plans had been laid with savage cunning, but the fruition of them seemed as far away as when they began.