of the wagon's course could not be avoided. The men on the line
jerked and swore. It was useless. One side of the wheel collapsed,
the front axle swung around and the blazing wagon straddled the
troublesome boulder like a stranded ship. The men guiding heaved to on
the line--it parted; the cabin stood safe.

At once, the rifle fire from the cabin ceased. No taunt, no threat
could draw another shot from the silence. Chagrined, eyes flashing,
silent in his defeat, Van Horn, contemplating the last of the burning
wagon and watching the cabin as a dog, baffled, watches a cat on a
fence, was let alone even by the most reckless of his companions; for
the failure no one tried to bait him. Nor were he and Doubleday ready
to quit. They got ready a circle of fires to block any attempt made to
escape the beleaguered place after dark. This proved a difficult
undertaking, both because fuel was scarce and because the dead line,
drawn by the rifle fire of the wary defender, extended a long way in
every direction around his log refuge.

The night, however, was fairly clear and a pretty good moon was due by
ten o'clock. The fires were lighted, not without some sharp objection
from the cabin, the moment darkness fell. The difficulty then was to
keep them replenished and maintain an adequate guard. Dark spots and
shadows fell within and across the circle around the cabin. Van Horn
ordered a rifle fire directed into these places; it was placed so
persistently that when the moon rose, the besiegers felt pretty
confident Henry had not escaped. And just before its light had
penetrated the narrow valley, the invaders had a cheering surprise when
the wounded man, nicknamed "The Snipe," crawled from his hollow between
the lines back to his comrades and told them in immoderate terms what
he thought of them for leaving him wounded and thirsty under the enemy
fire. Volunteers, inspired by his abuse, crawled out to the second man
that had fallen in the morning and by really heroic effort got him back
into the draw; badly hit, he was given long-needed attention. The
first man, shot through the head, the rescuers reported dead.

When midnight came, the men had been fed and the watch well maintained.
A steer, interned earlier, had been cut up for the men's supper and Van
Horn and Doubleday were seated together before the camp fire near the
creek eating some of the reserve chunks of meat when a hurried alarm
called them up the draw--the