the wall of the defile opposite him.
The crevice in which he was hiding was irregular at the entrance, and a
jutting shoulder of it concealed him from view from the wall of the
defile opposite him. Another projection, opposite the jutting
shoulder, protected him from any shots that might be aimed at him from
his left.

The fissure ran, with sharp irregularities, clear up the face of the
wall behind him. He grinned with satisfaction when he saw that there
were a number of places along the upward line of the fissure which
would afford him concealment in an offensive battle with Dale's men.

He contemplated making things rather warm for the Dale contingent
presently; but first he must make sure that none of his own men was
exposed to danger.

Cautiously, then, he laid his head close to the ragged wall of the
fissure and peered upward and outward. Behind a big boulder on the
opposite side of the defile he saw a man's head appear.

Watching for a time, Sanderson made certain the man was not one of his
own outfit, and then he shoved the muzzle of his rifle out, laid his
cheek against the stock, and covered the partly exposed head of the man
behind the boulder.

Sanderson waited long with his cheek caressing the rifle stock, while
the man behind the boulder wriggled farther out, exposing himself more
and more in his eagerness to gain a more advantageous position.

And presently, without moving his head, Sanderson discovered that it
was Williams who was in danger.

Williams had concealed himself behind a jagged rock, which protected
him from the bullets fired from across the defile, and from the sides.
But the rock afforded him no protection from the rear, and the man
behind the boulder was going to take advantage of his opportunity.

"That's my engineer, mister," he said grimly; "an' I ain't lettin' you
make me go to the trouble of sendin' east for another. You're ready
now, eh?"

The man behind the boulder had reached a position that satisfied him.
Sanderson saw him snuggle the stock of his rifle against his shoulder.

Sanderson's rifle cracked viciously. The man behind the boulder was
lying on a slight slope, and when Sanderson's bullet struck him, he
gently rolled over and began to slide downward. He came--a grotesque,
limp thing--down the side of the defile, past the engineer, sliding
gently until he landed in a queer-looking huddle at the bottom, near
the trail.

Sanderson intently examined other rocks