first cowboy in his dash for safety
was making a record still unequaled in mountain story. He jumped like
a broncho and zig-zagged like a darting bird, but faster than either.
The efforts of his companions to divert attention from him were
constant. Some of them poured bullets at the cabin. Others jumped to
their feet, and, yelling, sprang from point to point to expose
themselves momentarily and draw the fire of the enemy. This was of no
avail. The hidden rifle with deliberate instancy cracked once more.
The fleeing cowboy, slammed as if by a club, dashed on, but his right
arm hung limp. No snipe ever made half the race for life that he put
up in those fleeting seconds; and by his agility he earned then and
there the nickname of the bird itself, for before the deadly sights
could cover his flight again he threw himself into a slight depression
that effectually hid him from the range of the enemy.

A swarm of hornets, roused, could not have been more furious than the
company under the lee of the draw. Shooting, shouting, cursing deep
and loud, they made continual effort to keep the deadly fire off their
fallen companions. They saw the half-open door of the cabin swing now
slowly shut and they riddled it with bullets. They splintered the logs
about it and, scattering in as wide an arc as they dare, continued to
pour a fire into the silent cabin. At intervals they paused to wait
for a return. There was no return. All ruses they had ever heard of
they tried over again to draw a fire and exhaust the besieged man's
ammunition. Nothing moved the lone enemy--if he were, indeed, alone.
The day wore into afternoon. By shouting, the assailants learned that
two of their three hapless companions lying in the blue stem were still
alive--the Snipe very much alive, as his stentorian answers indicated.
He called vigorously for water but got none. His refuge was too
exposed.

How to get rid of Dutch Henry taxed the wits of the invaders. The
whole morning and the early afternoon went to pot-luck firing from the
trench along the draw, but although it was often asserted that Henry
must long since be dead--having returned none of the shooting that was
meant to call his fire--no one manifested the curiosity necessary to
prove the assertion by closing in on the cabin. Stone was still
sulking over Van Horn's sharp talk of the morning when Van Horn came
over to where the foreman had posted himself to cover the cabin door:
"We