derson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men. Evidently
the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was
seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his
enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was
exposed to Sanderson.

He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had
been the result.

The man was not dead; Sanderson could see him writhing. He was badly
wounded, too, and Sanderson did not shoot, though he could have
finished him.

But the incident drew Sanderson's attention to the possibilities of a
new position. He had thought at first that he had climbed as high in
the fissure as he dared without exposing himself to the fire of the
Dale men; but examining the place again he saw that he might, with
exceeding caution, take another position about twenty feet farther on.

He decided to try. Letting himself down until his feet struck a flat
rock projection, he rested. Then, the weariness dispersed, he began to
climb, shoving his rifle between his body and the cartridge belt around
his waist.

It took him half an hour to reach the point he had decided upon, and by
that time the sun had gone far down into the hazy western distance, and
a glow--saffron and rose and violet--like a gauze curtain slowly
descending--warned him that twilight was not far away.

Sanderson determined to finish the battle before the darkness could
come to increase the hazard, and when he reached the spot in the
fissure he hurriedly took note of the strategical points of the
position.

There was not much concealment for his body. He was compelled to lie
flat on his stomach to be certain that no portion of his body was
exposed; and he found a place in a little depression at the edge of the
fissure that seemed suitable. Then he raised his head above the little
ridge that concealed him from his enemies.

He saw them all--every man of them. Some of them were crouching; some
were lying prone--apparently resting; still others were sitting, their
backs against their protection--waiting.

Sanderson took his rifle by the barrel and with the stock forced a
channel through some rotted rock on the top of the little ridge that
afforded him concealment. When he had dug the channel deeply
enough--so that he could aim the weapon without exposing his head--he
stuck the rifle barrel into the channel and shouted to the Dale men:

"This game is played out, boys! I