and knees. Don't give 'em a chance to send a
bullet at you in the dark."

The lad obeyed orders and found the animals now fairly quiet. They had
stamped and reared somewhat at the sound of his shot, but their alarm
had soon subsided. He went among them, stroking their noses and manes,
showing all the power over animals that the hunter and the Little Giant
had soon detected in him, and they signified their gladness at his
presence. While he stroked them he whispered to them gently, speaking
words of courage in their ears, but at the same time, he did not neglect
to see that the lariats were fastened securely.

Then, confident that the animals would not fall into a panic no matter
what happened, he went back and found that Boyd and Bent were creeping
toward the edge of the cliff. Lying almost flat, he joined them, and the
hunter explained their plan of battle.

"I take it that they're all on foot," he said, "and even so they can
come only by the path we followed. It's too steep everywhere else for
them to make a rush upon men armed as we are."

"An' we, hid here on the ledge, may get a chance to pick 'em off," said
the Little Giant. "Look, the night's beginnin' to favor us. More stars
are comin' out, an' it's lighter all along the mountain. Lend me them
glasses o' yourn, young William."

Will passed them to him, and the man, who was now at the edge of the
ledge, made a very minute examination of the slopes. Then he handed the
glasses back to the lad, and pushed his rifle a little farther forward.
Will, in the increasing light, caught a glimpse of his face, and he was
startled by its look of deadly hate.

"You've seen one of them?" he said.

"Yes," replied the Little Giant. "He's a-layin' among the rocks on the
other side o' that deep ravine, too fur away fur any ordinary bullet,
but ef thar's one thing I'm proud of it's my rifle shootin'. I hate to
do it, but they've come here to murder us an' we've got to teach 'em
it's dang'rous business."

Will, putting the glasses to his own eyes, was able to pick out the man
whom the Little Giant had seen. It was not Felton, but a fellow in
deerskins who crouched in fancied security in a sort of shallow alcove
of the cliff. Will regarded him as one already dead, and his opinion was
only a moment or two before fact, as the Little Giant pulled the trigger
of his great repeating rifle, the mountain burst into many echoes, and
the brigand, rolling from his alcove, fell like a st