He rose to his knees, and used all his powers of eye and ear. The animals did not stir, and the hunter and the Little Giant slept in deep peace. Yet Will's own pulses were beating hard. He began to denounce himself as one who took alarm because of the darkness and desolation, but it did not make his pulses grow quiet.
Still keeping his rifle ready for instant use, he crawled noiselessly toward the edge of the ledge, which was not more than twenty feet away. Half the distance, and he stopped suddenly, because his ears had distinctly brought to him a light sound, as if a pebble had fallen. Will was not a son of the wilderness by birth, but he was fast becoming one of its adopted children, making its ways second nature, and, when the light note of the falling pebble was registered upon his ear, he flattened himself upon the ground, thrusting forward a little the muzzle of his rifle. It is doubtful if the keen eyes of a trailing Indian could have seen him there in the dark as he waited patiently until such time as a second pebble might fall.
The second sound did not come, but the sensitive plate that was his mind registered an impression. Something new and strange appeared upon its surface, and he felt that it was a hostile figure. At last it detached itself from the general dusk, darker and almost formless, and resolved itself into a head, that is a part of a head, from the eyes up. The eyes, set a little near together, were staring intently at the camp, trying to separate it into details, and Will, unseen himself, was able to recognize the eyes and forehead of Felton. He could also trace the glittering gold band around the crown of the wide-brimmed hat that surmounted the head, and, if he had felt any doubts before, the yellow cord would have convinced him that it was the sinister intruder of the morning.
He saw one hand steal up over the ledge. The other, holding a revolver, followed in an instant, and then the lad, knowing in his heart that treacherous and black murder was intended, threw up his own rifle and pulled the trigger. He fired practically at random, doubting that the bullet would hit, but there was the sound of an oath, of scraping feet and a thud, while the gorges and ravines of the mountain sent back the crack of the rifle in many echoes.
The hunter and the Little Giant were awake in a flash, but they did not spring to their feet. They were far too alert and experienced to expose themselves in such a manner, but they crawled forward, fully armed, and lay beside Will.
"What was it?" whispered Boyd.
"It was the man of the morning, Felton. He was about to pull himself up on the cliff. He had a pistol in one hand and he meant to murder us."
"I didn't see him, but I haven't the slightest doubt you are right. And of course he had men as black-hearted as himself with him. He wouldn't have dared such a thing alone. Don't you see it that way, Giant?"
"Thar's no other way to see it, Jim. Felton is the leader of a band, a heap wuss than the Sioux, but young William, here, has been smart 'nough to block his game."
"That is, it's blocked for the time. He's down there with his band, waiting for another chance at us. Now, Will, you slip back and see that the horses and mules are secure, that they can't break their lariats, when they get scared at the shooting that's going to happen mighty soon. Keep down on your hands and knees. Don't give 'em a chance to send a bullet at you in the dark."