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.
Sanderson determined to finish the battle before the darkness could come to increase the hazard, and when he reached the spot in the fissure he hurriedly took note of the strategical points of the position.
There was not much concealment for his body. He was compelled to lie flat on his stomach to be certain that no portion of his body was exposed; and he found a place in a little depression at the edge of the fissure that seemed suitable. Then he raised his head above the little ridge that concealed him from his enemies.
He saw them all—every man of them. Some of them were crouching; some were lying prone—apparently resting; still others were sitting, their backs against their protection—waiting.
Sanderson took his rifle by the barrel and with the stock forced a channel through some rotted rock on the top of the little ridge that afforded him concealment. When he had dug the channel deeply enough—so that he could aim the weapon without exposing his head—he stuck the rifle barrel into the channel and shouted to the Dale men:
"This game is played out, boys! I'm behind you. You can't hide any longer. I give you fair warning that if you don't come out within a minute, throwin' your guns away an' holdin' up your hands, I'll pick you off, one by one! That goes!"
There was sincerity in Sanderson's voice, but the men doubted. Sanderson saw them look around, but it was plain to him that they could not tell from which direction his voice came.