“It will take two men, crawling side by side.”
“Soh! Here is a plan. Let one of us get out flat on the ledge. The other will stand here and fire. Then the other will hear if any advance on their bellies, and shoot.”
“It is good; I will take the ledge.”
“Nay, the plan is mine; I will take the ledge, and if the bullet misses, the assegai will not.”
“No, chief; your assegai is good against one or two, but this little gun holds six lives.”
“Go, then,” said Sirayo, with a grim chuckle; “but when your little gun has spoken let me try my assegai.”
Hume took off his boots, laid his rifle and cartridge-belt aside, and then, feeling his way with his hands, he crept out, inch by inch, several yards, until he was well out on the ledge.
Then he sat close against the wall of rock, with his revolver ready—waiting. It was a dangerous position, and his life depended on the keenness of his hearing and steadiness of nerve. Before him were cunning foes stealthily advancing, and within a yard was the lip of the sheer precipice.
No sooner had he sat down than Sirayo, standing well out in the eye, fired, and the bullet, striking the side of the mountain, went humming into the darkness. A solitary shot replied; then another nearer, and a third still nearer; and immediately after the third report a shout rolled out, deep and fierce, thundering taunts.
“Look out!” hissed Sirayo, and fired again.