“Was that what you fired at?” asked Merry, in astonishment. “You didn’t shoot at the man on the rope?”
“Plenty time to shoot man when Joe him find out he no cut rope,” was the retort. “When rope him cut one man he come down pretty fast. Him strike, bump! Mebbe it jar him some.”
“The fall must have killed him instantly,” said Frank. “If you cut that rope, Joe, you have spoiled their attack on this side of the valley. Stay here. Watch sharp, and make sure they don’t resume the attempt. If they do, Abe can signal again.”
“All right,” said Crowfoot. “Me watch.”
With this assurance, Frank felt safe to return again to the defenders above, and Dick returned with him. When he told what had taken place in the valley Cap’n Wiley observed:
“I had it in for Joseph Crowfoot, Esquire, for calling me Wind-in-the-head; but I will overlook the insult. Evidently the old boy is a whole army in himself.”
As they lay waiting for the attack they fully expected must take place, there came to their ears from the direction in which the enemy was supposed to be the sounds of shots, followed immediately by hoarse yelling and more shooting.
“Well, what do you make of that, Merry?” cried Hodge. “There seems to be a ruction of some sort going on over there.”
Frank listened a few moments. The sound of the shooting receded, and the yelling seemed dying out in the distance.
“It may be a trick,” he said; “but I am in hopes those ruffians have quarreled among themselves. If it is a trick, we will keep still and wait. Time will tell what has happened.”