CHAPTER XXIV.
THE PRIMITIVE FORT.
"Move a little lively, boys," added the captain, spurring his horse to a faster gait; "there'll be some shooting, and they're closer than they ought to be." By a providential coincidence, the whole party of rustlers halted before ascending the ridge, which would give them a view of the building in which the stockmen were about to make a stand.

They probably saw the impossibility of overtaking the fugitives by a direct pursuit, and paused to decide upon some different course of action.
This was proven by what they did a few minutes later, for they separated into two divisions, one turning to the right and the other to the left.

They seemed to think that the course of their enemies must change soon, in which case there was a chance of heading them off and bringing them between two fires.

The rustlers were more familiar with the country than the stockmen, and, had the chase continued, it is likely it would have resulted as they expected.
But, strangely enough, these people forgot the Whitney home, upon which it may be said the horsemen stumbled the next moment.
Down the ridge rode the dozen or more, Hawkridge, Sterry and Capt.
Asbury at the head, with the others almost upon their heels.

In the brisk morning air the frightened Jennie Whitney hastened to the door and gazed wonderingly upon the party.
She recognized the handsome youth, who doffed his hat, a courtesy instantly imitated by Hawkridge, the captain, and then the rest of the men, as they halted in front of the door, where stood the pale and startled mother, at a loss to understand the meaning of the strange sight.
"Good-morning!" called Sterry.