talk. I
won't stand for it, and I won't go."

"'Most every family has one blame fool in it," said McHale. "All right,
durn you, stay. If I could chase you out I'd do it. Reach down and pull
my belt gun for me. I can shoot left-handed some."

They passed the night miserably, waiting for an attack which did not
come. The pain of their wounds was added to the discomfort of the cold.
Dawn found them shivering, numbed, weary-eyed, staring through the
lifting gloom, their weapons ready. As the light grew they could see
their own camp, but no one occupied it. Farther off a column of smoke
rose.

"Cookin' breakfast down in a hole," said McHale. "Playin' it plumb
safe. They ain't takin' a chance on your shootin'."

"They'd better not," said Sandy. His young face showed grimed and
pinched in the growing light, but his eyes were hard and clear. "Do you
s'pose I could sneak over and get a stand on them?"

"I wouldn't try. You bet somebody's keeping cases on these rocks."

Half an hour passed, an hour. The sun struck the basin, mottling its
green with gold, striking their chilled bodies with grateful warmth.

"Say," asked Sandy, "don't you want a drink of water?"

"Quit foolin'," McHale replied. "I been thinkin' of it for hours. I
could drink that there lake dry."

Still nothing happened. The waiting began to get on their nerves.

"What d'you s'pose they're framing up?" Sandy asked.

"Don't know. Durn it! I can't do nothin' unless they run in on us,"
McHale grumbled. "Wisht I could hold a rifle."

"Let 'em try to run in," said Sandy grimly. He had McHale's rifle in
addition to his own. "They've got to come two hundred yards without
cover. I'll stop every blamed one of them in one hundred."

Suddenly he lifted his rifle, hesitated, and lay with his cheek to the
stock, staring along the sights.

"See somethin'?" McHale asked.

"Over there past those jack pines. Man on a horse. He'll come out
again."

Far off among the trees they saw not one mounted man, but several. They
could catch glimpses merely. The horsemen appeared to be making for the
valley, but not by the way in which they had come.

"By thunder!" cried McHale, "it looks like they're pullin' out."

His further remarks were lost in a rolling fire as Sandy unhooked his
entire magazine at the retreating figures. He caught up McHale's rifle
and emptied that, too.

"Save some ca'tridges for seed," advised McHale. "What's the use of
snapshootin' at that ran