"At the precise psychological moment," nodded the marine marvel. "This being just in time is getting habitual with you."
While the enemy was still in confusion Frank and Bart hastened to join the new arrivals and greet them. Of course they were surprised to see Curry and his companions, and the story told by the deputy sheriff, who explained everything in a few words, made clear the cause of his unexpected reappearance at the valley.
"A ministerial-looking gentleman who called himself Felton Cleveland, eh?" said Frank. "He was with the gang that cut loose your prisoners, was he? Well, I am dead sure Felton Cleveland is----"
"Macklyn Morgan!" cried Dick. "I saw him last night. He is the man."
"And Macklyn Morgan is the instigator of this whole business," said Frank. "Wiley, get Abe and Felicia down into the valley without delay. We have got to stand this gang off right here. We can't afford to let them reach this entrance to the valley. We're in for a siege. You will find provisions down there at the cabin. Bring supplies when you return. Abe and Felicia will be safe down there as long as we hold this passage."
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the sailor. "I am yours to command."
Fortunately near the mouth of the fissure there were heaped-up bowlders which seemed to form something of a natural fortress. Behind these rocks the defenders concealed themselves, their horses being taken down into the valley one after another. For a long time the enemy made no offensive move. It seemed to Frank and his friends that the ruffians had been dismayed by their warm reception, and they seemed disagreeing.
"If they will only chew the rag and get into trouble among themselves, it will be greatly to our advantage," said Hodge.
"Let them sail right into us if they are looking for a warm time!" exclaimed Brad Buckhart, who seemed thirsting for more trouble. "I opine we can give them all they want."
Wiley brought a supply of provisions from the valley, and the defenders satiated their hunger while ensconced behind the bowlders.
"This is even better than salt horse," declared Wiley, munching away. "One time when shipwrecked in the South Atlantic, longitude unty-three, latitude oxty-one, I subsisted on raw salt horse for nineteen consecutive days. That was one of the most harrowing experiences of my long and sinuous career."