"Oh, I--guess not," and Murphy spat contemptuously. "Do ye think--I 'm

afeard o' yer--shootin'? Ye don't dare--fer I 'm no good ter ye--dead."

"You are perfectly right. You are quite a philosopher in your way.

You would be no good to me dead, Murphy, but you might prove fully as

valuable maimed. Now I 'm playing this game to the limit, and that

limit is just about reached. You unlimber before I count ten, you

murderer, or I 'll spoil both your hands!"

The mocking, sardonic grin deserted Murphy's features. It was sullen

obstinacy, not doubt of the other's purpose, that paralyzed him.

"Unlimber! It's the last call."

With a snarl the scout unclasped his army belt, dropped it to the

ground, and sullenly kicked it over toward Hampton. "Now--now--you,

you gray-eyed--devil, kin I--sit up?"

The other nodded. He had drawn the fangs of the wolf, and now that he

no longer feared, a sudden, unexplainable feeling of sympathy took

possession of him. Yet he drew farther away before slipping his own

gun into its sheath. For a time neither spoke, their eyes peering

across the ridge. Murphy sputtered and swore, but his victorious

companion neither spoke nor moved. There were several distant smokes

out to the northward now, evidently the answering signals of different

bands of savages, while far away, beneath the shadow of the low bluffs

bordering the stream, numerous black, moving dots began to show against

the light brown background. Hampton, noticing that Murphy had stopped

swearing to gaze, swung forward his field-glasses for a better view.

"They are Indians, right enough," he said, at last. "Here, take a

look, Murphy. I could count about twenty in that bunch, and they are

travelling north."

The older man adjusted the tubes to his eyes, and looked long and

steadily at the party. Then he slowly swung the glasses toward the

northwest, apparently studying the country inch by inch, his jaws

working spasmodically, his unoccupied hand clutching nervously at the

grass.

"They seem--to be a-closin' in," he declared, finally, staring around

into the other's face, all bravado gone. "There's anuther lot--bucks,

all o' 'em--out west yonder--an' over east a smudge is--just startin'.

Looks like--we wus in a pocket--an' thar' might be some--har-raisin'

fore long."

"Well, Murphy, you are the older hand at this business. What do you

advise doing?"

"Me? Why, push right 'long--while we kin keep under cover.

Then--after dark--trust ter bull luck an' make--'nuther dash. It's

mostly luck, anyhow. Thet canyon just ahead--looks like it leads a

long way--toward the Powder. Its middling deep down, an' if there

ain't Injuns in it--them fellers out yonder--never cud git no sight at

us. Thet's my notion--thet ivery mile helps in this--business."




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