ptible warmth into the
crouching men. Alfred succeeded, too, in wriggling a morsel of raw bacon
from the pack, which the two men shared. But the cartridges were running
very low.

"We establishes a dead-line," suggested Alfred. "S' long as they slinks
beyond yonder greasewood, they lurks in safety. Plug 'em this side of
her."

"C'rrect," agreed the stranger.

This brought them a season of comparative quiet. They even made out to
smoke, and so were happy. Over near the hill the body of Indians had
gone into camp and were taking it easy. The job of wiping out these
troublesome whites had been sublet, and they wasted no further anxiety
over the affair. This indifference irritated the outlaw exceedingly.

"Damn siwashes!" he grumbled.

"Look out!" warned Alfred.

The dead-line was overpassed. Swaying tufts of vegetation marked the
rapid passage of eel-like bodies. The Indians had decided on an advance,
being encouraged probably by the latter inaccuracy of the plainsmen's
fire. Besides, the day was waning. It was no cat-and-mouse game now; but
a rush, like the other except that all but the last twenty or thirty
yards would be made under cover. The besieged turned their attention to
it. Over on the hill the bucks had arisen from their little fires of
buffalo chips, and were watching. On the summit of the farther ridge
rode silhouetted sentinels.

Alfred selected a tuft and fired just ahead of it. A _crack_ at his side
indicated that the stranger, too, had gone to work. It was a
discouraging and nervous business. The shooter could never tell whether
or not he had hit. The only thing he was sure of was that the line was
wriggling nearer and nearer. He felt something as though he were
shooting at a man with blank cartridges. This test of nerve was probably
the most severe of the fight.

But it was successfully withstood. Alfred felt a degree of steadiness
return to him with the excitement and the change of weather. The
Winchester spat as carefully as before. Suddenly it could no longer be
doubted that the line was beginning to hesitate. The outlaw saw it, too.

"Give it to 'em good!" he cried.

Both men shot, and then again.

The line wavered.

"Two more shots will stop 'em!" cried the road-agent, and pulled the
trigger. The hammer clicked against an empty chamber.

"I'm done!" he cried, hopelessly. His cartridges were gone.

Alfred laid his own Winchester on the ground, turned over on his back,
and puffed a c