your heart!"

Indian Jake might have been of chiselled stone. He did not move a
muscle or wink an eye-lash but his small eyes were centred on every
motion Eli made. He still held his rifle, the barrel resting in the
hollow of his left arm, his right hand clutching the stock behind the
hammer, his finger an inch from the trigger.

For an instant there was a death-like silence. Then Eli began to
count:

"One--two--three--four--"

The words fell like strokes of a hammer upon an anvil. Eli intended
to shoot. He was a man of his word. He made no threat that he was not
prepared to execute, and Indian Jake knew that Eli would shoot on the
count of ten.

"Five--six--seven--eight--"

Still Indian Jake made no move save that the little hawk eyes had
narrowed to slits. He did not drop his gun. From all the indications,
he did not hear Eli's count.

"Nine--ten!"

True to his threat, Eli's rifle rang out with the last word of his
count.

CHAPTER X

THE END OF ELI'S HUNT

Indian Jake, quick as a cat, had thrown himself upon the ground with
Eli's last count. Like the loon that dives at the flash of the
hunter's gun, he was a fraction of a second quicker than Eli. Now,
lying prone, his rifle at his shoulder, he had Eli covered, and the
chamber of Eli's rifle was empty.

"Drop that gun!" he commanded.

Eli, believing in the first instant that Indian Jake had fallen as the
result of the shot, was taken wholly by surprise. He stood dazed and
dumb with the smoking rifle in his hand. He did not at once realize
that the half-breed had him covered. His brain did not work as rapidly
as Indian Jake's. His immediate sensation as he heard Indian Jake's
voice was one of thankfulness that, after all, there was no stain of
murder on his soul. Even yet he had no doubt Indian Jake was wounded.
He had taken deadly aim, and he could not understand how any escape
could have been possible.

"Drop that gun!" Indian Jake repeated. "I won't count. I'll shoot."

Eli's brain at last grasped the situation. Indian Jake was grinning
broadly, and it seemed to Eli the most malicious grin he had ever
beheld. He did not question Indian Jake's determination to shoot. It
was too evident that the half-breed, grinning like a demon, was in a
desperate mood. Eli dropped his rifle as though it were red hot and
burned his hands.

"Step out here!" Indian Jake, rising to his feet, indicated an open
space near the tent.

Eli did as he was told