Part 58 (1/2)

Immediately afterward a thirty-thirty struck a rock in front of them, glancing off at an angle, wailing away into the distance. Sandy McCrae, lying at full length peering along the slim barrel of his weapon, pressed the trigger and swore in disappointment.

”Centred a stump,” he said. ”There it is yet. It looked like somebody.”

All was quiet for five minutes. Then a sleet of lead pelted their position, patting against the cliff behind them, and splas.h.i.+ng upon the rocks in front. Splinters and particles of stone, lead, and nickel flew everywhere.

”Git down low,” McHale advised, hugging a bowlder.

”I am down,” said Sandy.

”Then dig a hole.” McHale laughed, and then swore as a sharp fragment of rock ripped his cheek.

”Hit you?”

”Nope. Rock sliver. I'll bet their guns is gettin' hot. This won't last.”

The fusillade ceased. McHale shoved his rifle barrel through a crevice.

”Maybe some gent will stick out his head to see how many corpses there is of us. This light's gettin' durn bad. I wish I had an ivory foresight, 'stead o' this gold bead. I can't see----”

His rifle muzzle leaped in recoil as he spoke. Two hundred yards away a man making a rush forward for a closer position winced and half halted.

Instantly Sandy's rifle lanced the dimming light with a twelve-foot shaft of flame. The man straightened, staggered, and threw both arms upward as if to s.h.i.+eld his face. Sandy fired again as the lever clashed back into place. The man fell forward.

”Got him!” cried Sandy exultantly. ”Centred him twice, Tom!”

”I reckon you did. That's one out of it.” He fired again without result. Sandy shot three times rapidly, and swore at the light.

”You're overshootin',” said McHale. ”You can't draw the foresight fine enough in this light. Hold lower.”

”Nothing to hold on,” grumbled McCrae. ”They're cached close. If one of them would only come out to fetch in that dead one I wouldn't do a thing to him.”

McHale eyed him speculatively. ”Seems like your young soul ain't swamped by no wave of remorse at killin' a man. Don't make you feel shaky nor nothin'?”

Young McCrae smiled grimly. ”Not that I can notice. All that lead they slung at us scared remorse clean out of my system. I'm lookin' for a chance to repeat.”

But darkness settled down without that chance, making accurate shooting impossible. Objects at fifty yards became indistinct. Only the smoky-red reflection of the sunset remained.

”Think they've got enough?” asked Sandy.

”Why, they ain't got started yet. Lucky we had our supper. We can stand quite a racket on a full stomach. Might as well smoke, I reckon.”

Sandy s.h.i.+vered slightly as the chill of the mountain night air struck through his thin clothing. ”Wish I'd grabbed a blanket or a coat.”

”It'll be a heap worse before mornin',” said McHale.

”You're a cheerful devil!”

”Think of how good the sun'll feel. Maybe something will happen to warm us up before then.”

A forty-pound stone suddenly crashed down to one side of them, smas.h.i.+ng in the rocks and bushes with terrific impact. Sandy leaped to his feet, his revolver streaming continuous fire at the top of the cliff.

”Git down, you durn fool!” cried McHale.