near him.

Sanderson'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.