point of the other knoll, a spur of the range in the west, for he
always wanted to see all he could. Skinny, due to his fighting
instinct, settled one hundred yards to the north and on the same spur.
Buck lay hidden behind an enormous bowlder eight hundred yards to the
northeast of Skinny, and the same distance southeast of Buck was Red
Connors, who was crawling up the bed of an arroyo. Billy, nursing his
arm, lay in front of the horses, and Pete, from his position between
Billy and Hopalong, was crawling from rock to rock in an endeavor to
get near enough to use his Colts, his favorite and most effective
weapons. Intermittent puffs of smoke arising from a point between
Skinny and Buck showed where Lanky Smith was improving each shining
hour.

There had been no directions given, each man choosing his own
position, yet each was of strategic worth. Billy protected the horses,
Hopalong and Skinny swept the knoll with a plunging fire, and Lanky
and Buck lay in the course the besieged would most likely take if they
tried a dash. Off to the east Red barred them from creeping down the
arroyo, and from where Pete was he could creep up to within sixty
yards if he chose the right rocks. The ranges varied from four hundred
yards for Buck to sixty for Pete, and the others averaged close to
three hundred, which allowed very good shooting on both sides.

Hopalong and Skinny gradually moved nearer to each other for
companionship, and as the former raised his head to see what the
others were doing he received a graze on the ear.

"Wow!" he yelled, rubbing the tingling member.

Two puffs of smoke floated up from the knoll, and Skinny swore.