and also a desire to meet his own exacting standards. As he disappeared
with his picked sharpshooters and turned the shoulder of the mountain
his blood was still hot, but his Vermont head was as cool as the ice upon
which he trod.

Warner heard the distant reports of Slade's rifle, and also the crackle
of the firing in reply. He knew the colonel would keep Slade so busy
that he was not likely to notice the flank movement, and he pressed
forward with all the energy of himself and his men. The heavy cloth
around their shoes gave them a secure foothold until they reached the
steeper slopes, and there, in accordance with Reed's suggestion, they
used their bayonets as alpenstocks.

A third of the way up the slope, and they reached one of the clumps of
cedars, into which they crawled. Although a glittering network of silver
it was a cold covert, but they lay on the ice there and watched for
Slade's next shot. They heard it a minute later, and then saw him behind
a pine about five hundred yards away. After sending his bullet into the
valley he had withdrawn a little and was slipping another cartridge into
the fine breech-loading rifle that he carried, the most modern and highly
improved weapon then used, as Warner could clearly see.

"Would you let me take a look at him through your glasses?" asked Reed.

"Certainly," replied Warner, handing them to him.

"Jest as I thought," said Reed, as he took a long look. "He's done gone
plum' mad with the wish to kill. It strikes them evil-minded critters
that way sometimes, an' he's had so much luck shootin' down at us,
an' keepin' a whole little army besieged that it's mounted to his head.
Ef he had his way he'd jest wipe us all out."

"A sanguinary and savage mind," said Warner. "It's the spirit of the
rattlesnake or the cobra, and we must exterminate him. He's moving
further along the ridge, and he's exactly between us and that clump of
cedars, higher up and about three hundred yards away. If we could make
those cedars we would bring him within range. It's a pretty steep climb,
but I want to try it."

"We kin do it shore by stabbin' our bayonets into the ice and hangin' on
to 'em ez we edge up," said Reed optimistically. "The clump itself will
help hide us, an' Slade ain't likely to look this way. Ez I told you
he hez gone plum' mad with the blood fever, an' he ain't got eyes for
anythin' except the soldiers in the valley what he wants to shoot."

"Poison, not