as keen as those of any wild animal of the jungle were watching
murderously their slightest movement.

Wyman, now reclining in agony against the base of the overhanging
cliff, directed the movements of his little command calmly and with
sober military judgment. Little by little, under protection of the
rifles of the three civilians, the uninjured infantrymen crept
cautiously about, rolling loosened bowlders forward into position,
until they finally succeeded in thus erecting a rude barricade between
them and the enemy. The wounded who could be reached were laboriously
drawn back within this improvised shelter, and when the black shadows
of the night finally shut down, all remaining alive were once more
clustered together, the injured lying moaning and ghastly beneath the
overhanging shelf of rock, and the girl, who possessed all the patient
stoicism of frontier training, resting in silence, her widely opened
eyes on those far-off stars peeping above the brink of the chasm, her
head pillowed on old Gillis's knee.

Few details of those long hours of waiting ever came forth from that
black canyon of death. Many of the men sorely wounded, all wearied,
powder-stained, faint with hunger, and parched with thirst, they simply
fought out to the bitter ending their desperate struggle against
despair. The towering, overhanging wall at their back assured
protection from above, but upon the opposite cliff summit, and easily
within rifle range, the cunning foe early discovered lodgment, and from
that safe vantage-point poured down a merciless fire, causing each man
to crouch lower behind his protecting bowlder. No motion could be
ventured without its checking bullet, yet hour after hour the besieged
held their ground, and with ever-ready rifles left more than one
reckless brave dead among the rocks. The longed-for night came dark