emanded. He felt that all
depended upon him, his own life and the lives of those four comrades so
dear to him.

Tom Ross, silent, reserved, fairly poured his soul into his task.
Nothing among the bushes and trees in front of them escaped his
attention. Once he saw a red feather move, but he knew that it was stuck
in the hair of an Indian and he was looking for different game. He
became so eager that he flattened his face against the rock and thrust
forward the rifle barrel that he might lose no chance however fleeting.

Silent Tom's figure and face were so tense and eager that Henry stopped
watching the bushes a moment or two to look at him. But Tom continued to
search for his target. He missed nothing that human eye could see among
those bushes, trees and rocks. He saw an eagle feather again, but it did
not interest him. Then he heard the baying of a hound, and he quivered
from head to foot, but the sound stopped in a moment, and he could not
locate the long dark figure for which he looked. But he never ceased to
watch, and his eagerness and intensity did not diminish a particle.

The air darkened yet more, and the moan of the wind rose in the forest.
But there was no rain. The five behind the rocks scarcely moved, and
there was silence in the bushes in front of them. Tom Ross, intent as
ever, saw a bush move slightly and then another. His eyes fastened upon
the spot. So eager was he that he seemed fairly to double his power of
sight. He saw a third bush move, and then a patch of something dark
appear where nothing had been before. Tom's heart beat fast. He thought
of the comrades so dear to him, and he thought of the silver bullet in
his rifle. The dark patch grew a little larger. He quivered all over,
but the next instant he was rigid. He was watching while the dark patch
still grew. He felt that he would have but a single chance, and that if
ever in his life he must seize the passing moment it was now.

Tom was staring so intently that his gaze pierced the shadows, and now
he saw the full figure of a huge hound stealing forward among the
bushes. He saw the massive pointed head and glittering eyes, and his
rifle muzzle shifted until he looked down the barrel upon a spot
directly between those cruel eyes. He prayed to the God of the white man
and the Manitou of the red man, who are the same, to make him steady of
eye and hand in this, their moment of great need. Then he pulled the
trigger.

The great dog uttered