the line of fire. He's on top of the mesa, whoever he is. He can't
reach us here, but he can reach us if we move, or if he moves."

The rifle punctuated Scotty's estimate of the situation. This time the
slug slapped rock close enough to spatter sandstone chips in their
faces.

"We can't stay here," Scotty said grimly. "I'm going to see what I can
do."

"How?" Rick demanded.

Scotty was busily picking up stone fragments, choosing them by weight
and shape. "I can move along the face of the cliff, staying under cover.
At least I think I can. If I reach the place where the road drops, I can
get up to the top. With luck, I won't be seen. Besides, you can distract
him."

"How?"

"I don't know. Put the Brant brain to work and figure out something."
Scotty unrolled his sling, slipped the loop over his index finger, and
gave Rick a tight grin. "Keep the boy busy, chum. Here I go."

Scotty moved rapidly but silently, across the bottom of the cliff,
taking advantage of every overhanging rock. When Scotty was perhaps ten
yards away, Rick moved into action. He picked up a rock, hefted it, then
threw it into the pile of cans. They scattered noisily, bringing a rifle
shot in reply.

Rick thought swiftly, then peeled off his shirt and wrapped it in a
good-sized rock. He gauged the distance and heaved it in the direction
opposite the one Scotty had taken, aiming for a niche under an overhang
six yards away. He hoped the motion would be mistaken for one of them.
Evidently he succeeded, because a rifle slug chipped rock a foot away
from the shirt as it rolled under the overhang.

Raising his head cautiously, he saw a rock perched precariously on the
steep slopes. Evidently it had come to rest there, or the rains had
washed away much of its support. He found a rock to throw, sighted with
care, and tossed it underhand. It struck directly under the balanced
rock and dug away enough dirt to upset its equilibrium. The rock tumbled
down, bringing a tiny landslide of other rocks and dirt with it. There
was no response from the rifle this time.

Rick turned to see how Scotty was doing, but his pal was out of sight,
behind some boulder along the way. Now what? His bag of tricks was
almost exhausted.

He looked outward, across the road. A few yards to the right of the
campfire and cache of cans was a rock pile. It was big enough to shield
him, if he could make it. He took a deep breath. If he dodged and
twisted fast enough, the rifl