After a pause the jingling of spurs and the dancing of torches were revived from the distance.
"Hallo ?" No answer.
"Who fired that shot ?" But there was no reply.

A slight veil of smoke passed away to the right, there was the spice of gunpowder in the air, but nothing more.
The torches came forward again, but this time it could be seen they were held in the hands of two men and a woman.

The woman's hands were tied at the wrist to the horse-hair reins of her mule, while a riata, passed around her waist and under the mule's girth, was held by one of the men, who were both armed with rifles and revolvers.

Their frightened horses curveted, and it was with difficulty they could be made to advance.
"Ho! stranger, what are you shooting at ?" The woman laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Look yonder at the roots of the tree.