“Do you think there are more than forty?”
“I dare say not; but they seemed to number two or three hundred when they first came in sight.”
“I counted forty when I reconnoitred their camp last night, and they must have all been within the vicinity of the fire, for there would have been no object in their scattering at that hour. Therefore, with two dead and one wounded we have thirty-seven to fight. How are they coming? In a body?”
“Yes; close together; all in a bunch.”
“So much the better.”
This conversation had been carried on in loud tones, that Ferguson might hear and be heard, for he was lying on the far side of the boulder. It seemed strange to speak in this manner after the enforced whispers that had been the rule for twenty-four hours.
“Now I can see them,” said the captain, and he rested his rifle on the ledge. A sharp report sounded above.
“Did you bring another down?”
“No,” called back Ferguson. “I missed.”
“You’re honest, that’s sure. Most persons would have said they didn’t know, but thought so. Better reserve your fire a few minutes.”