iling Indian could
have seen him there in the dark as he waited patiently until such time
as a second pebble might fall.

The second sound did not come, but the sensitive plate that was his mind
registered an impression. Something new and strange appeared upon its
surface, and he felt that it was a hostile figure. At last it detached
itself from the general dusk, darker and almost formless, and resolved
itself into a head, that is a part of a head, from the eyes up. The
eyes, set a little near together, were staring intently at the camp,
trying to separate it into details, and Will, unseen himself, was able
to recognize the eyes and forehead of Felton. He could also trace the
glittering gold band around the crown of the wide-brimmed hat that
surmounted the head, and, if he had felt any doubts before, the yellow
cord would have convinced him that it was the sinister intruder of the
morning.

He saw one hand steal up over the ledge. The other, holding a revolver,
followed in an instant, and then the lad, knowing in his heart that
treacherous and black murder was intended, threw up his own rifle and
pulled the trigger. He fired practically at random, doubting that the
bullet would hit, but there was the sound of an oath, of scraping feet
and a thud, while the gorges and ravines of the mountain sent back the
crack of the rifle in many echoes.

The hunter and the Little Giant were awake in a flash, but they did not
spring to their feet. They were far too alert and experienced to expose
themselves in such a manner, but they crawled forward, fully armed, and
lay beside Will.

"What was it?" whispered Boyd.

"It was the man of the morning, Felton. He was about to pull himself up
on the cliff. He had a pistol in one hand and he meant to murder us."

"I didn't see him, but I haven't the slightest doubt you are right. And
of course he had men as black-hearted as himself with him. He wouldn't
have dared such a thing alone. Don't you see it that way, Giant?"

"Thar's no other way to see it, Jim. Felton is the leader of a band, a
heap wuss than the Sioux, but young William, here, has been smart 'nough
to block his game."

"That is, it's blocked for the time. He's down there with his band,
waiting for another chance at us. Now, Will, you slip back and see that
the horses and mules are secure, that they can't break their lariats,
when they get scared at the shooting that's going to happen mighty soon.
Keep down on your hands