From the outside in to where they were entrenched was just a trifle easier.
The Indiana in the grove were all absorbed in watching the edge of the
Frying-pan and had their backs to the open, never thinking that white men
would be coming that way; for had not the other party been decoyed around the
farther end of the big butte, and did not several miles and a barbed-wire
fence lie between?
So when Applehead and his three, coming in from the north, approached the
grove, they did it under cover of a draw that hid them from sight. From the
shots that were fired, Applehead guessed the truth; that Luck's bunch had
sensed danger before they had actually ridden into the Frying-pan itself, and
that the Navajos were trying to drive them out of the rocks, and were not
making much of a success of it.
"Now," Applehead instructed the three when they were as close as they could
get to the grove without being seen, "I calc'late about the best thing we kin
do, boys, is t' spur up our hosses and ride in amongst 'em shooting and
a-hollerin'. Mebby we kin jest natcherlay stampede 'em--but we've sure got t'
git through In' git under cover mighty dang suddent, er they'll come to
theirselves an' wipe us clean off'n the map--if they's enough of 'em.
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