There was a slight ridge just there, so that the view was clear for some distance in either direction; Mateo's cabin was in plain sight, and the surrounding hills.

He hoped the fellow would see nothing suspicious and would presently give up that post; in the meantime he was effectually treed.

There was no shelter that he dared trust on the first rocky half of the descent, and to climb up and over the peak he would surely reveal himself, unless the fellow's attention happened to be centered on something else.
Johnny studied his predicament.

The man could see everything--but could he hear?
He was half a mile off, Johnny judged, estimating the distance with an accuracy born of long living in the country of far skylines.

The spy would need sharp ears indeed to hear anything less than a shout.
Johnny picked up a pebble, aimed, and threw it at the roof of Mateo's cabin.