ood defence against an attack?"

"I don't know," was the frank reply of the ranger; "we've only one man
with us who knows all about Rattlesnake Gulch, and the ins and outs of
the place."

"Who is that man?"

For reply, Hastings pointed to Jim Deane, sunk in a helpless stupor.

"Humph!" remarked the pioneer, "he is of no more account than a dead
man, and won't be for some hours to come."

CHAPTER X.

AT RATTLESNAKE GULCH.

By this time night was closing over forest and river. The sun had set,
and a strong west wind blew steadily up stream. Masses of clouds were
drifting across the sky, and when the moon should appear its light would
be treacherous and uncertain.

"We must wait no longer," said Hastings, "for we shall run the risk of
an attack where we are, and that would be almost as bad as an ambush."

"True," remarked Altman, with a shudder, as he glanced around them, "we
are without any protection at all in this open ground. We must hit upon
a better place than this in which to make our halt."

The leader nodded toward two of his men, who advanced to where the
sleeping Jim lay on the ground, as helpless and inanimate as a log. Each
taking him by a shoulder lifted him to his feet. Then they let go, and
he dropped like a bundle of rags.

He was yanked up again, shaken, slapped, and vigorously told to stand
up.

"I'm all right," mumbled Jim, "fetch on (hic) your rattler; let 'em
bite--who cares? Whiskey'll cure him--fetch on your whiskey."

After some more heroic treatment, the man was finally roused to that
degree that he was able to wobble forward, partly supported by his two
friends, one of whom took charge of his gun.

"If I had known nothing was the matter with him," said the disgusted Mr.
Altman, "he wouldn't have gotten a drop from me. The only man who can
give us the information we need might just as well be dead."

The company advanced much in the same fashion as earlier in the day,
except that still greater precaution was observed. The females were kept
near the centre and the husbands close to them, so that there was a rude
resemblance to a hollow square.

Hastings took the lead, as he always did in the absence of Kenton and
Boone, and had not gone far when he became aware that he was following a
well-marked path. A companion on his right and another on his left had
noted something of the kind some minutes before. The three paths, not to
mention others, converged and became one a li