I felt it safer, however, to trust myself with two men than with six, so I volunteered to show the precious pair where I had left the horse, and led them to my camp.
The animal was secured, and as one of the men started to lead him up the stream I picked up the two sage-hens I had intended for my evening meal.

The more closely we approached the dugout the less I liked the prospect of reentering it.

One plan of escape had failed.

I was sure the ruffians had no intention of permitting me to leave them and inform the stage people of their presence in the country.
One more plan suggested itself to me, and I lost no time in trying it.
Dropping one of the sage-hens, I asked the man behind me to pick it up.
As he was groping for it in the darkness, I pulled one of my Colt's revolvers, and hit him a terrific blow over the head.

He dropped to the ground, senseless.
Wheeling about, I saw that the other man, hearing the fall, had turned, his hand upon his revolver.