There was no time for flight. In the bright moonlight, they would have been easily recognized, and a wild chase would have followed. Leaving the road, they forced their horses into a thick clump of bushes, where they dismounted, to hold the animals by their heads. Scarcely had they gained this position when the first of the crowd reached the spot where they had been a moment before. Wash Gibbs was easily distinguished by his gigantic form, and with him were ten others, riding two and two, several of whom were known to Young Matt as the most lawless characters in the country. All were fired by drink and were laughing and talking, with now and then a burst of song, or a vulgar jest. “I say, Wash,” called one, “What’ll you do if Young Matt’s there?” The unseen listeners could not hear the leader’s reply; but those about the speaker laughed and shouted with great glee. Then the two in the bushes distinctly heard the last man in the line ask his companion, “Do you reckon he’ll put up a fight?” and as they passed from sight, the other answered, “Wash don’t aim t’ give him no show.” When the sounds had died away; Young Matt turned to the girl; “Come on; we’ve got to keep ’em in sight.” But Sammy held back. “Oh, Matt, don’t go yet. We must not. Didn’t you hear what that man said? It’s you they’re after. Let’s wait here until they’re clean gone.” “No, ’tain’t; they ain’t a wantin’ me,” the big fellow replied. And before the young woman could protest further, he lifted her to the saddle as easily as if she were a child. Then, springing to the back of his own horse, he led the way at a pace that would keep them within hearing of the company of men. “Who is it, Matt? Who is it, if it ain’t you?” asked the girl. “Don’t know for sure yet, but I’ll tell you pretty soon.” They had not gone far when Young Matt stopped the horse to listen intently; and soon by the sound he could tell that the party ahead had turned off the ridge road and were following the trail that leads down the eastern side of the mountain. A moment longer the mountaineer listened, as if to make sure; then he spoke; “Them devils are goin’ to the ranch after Dad Howitt. Sammy, you’ve got to ride hard to-night. They won’t hear you now, and they’re getting farther off every minute. There ain’t no other way, and, I know you’ll do it for the old man. Get home as quick as you can and tell Jim what’s up. Tell him I’ll hold ’em until he gets there.” Even as he spoke, he sprang from his horse and began loosening the saddle girths. “But, Matt,” protested the girl; “how can you? You can’t get by them. How’re you goin’ to get there in time?” “Down the mountain; short cut;” he answered as he jerked the heavy saddle from his horse and threw it under some nearby bushes. “But they’ll kill you. You can’t never face that whole crowd alone.” “I can do it better’n Dad, and him not a lookin’ for them.”