“No,” said Stephen, “if it's so, if it's Basil, he's wanting more than revenge; he knows we have a large sum of money with us.”
“Well, I allow we've both made a few mistakes,” said Rogers.
He added, “I'm ready to do what's right. Give me your horse, and I'll make a dash for the hills. You can tell 'em you've turned me out of camp.”
But Stephen shook his head. “Why, man, we wouldn't think of that!” he said earnestly.
Above the mountain tops the sun was sinking, filling the grey plain with floods of glorious gold and violet. Rogers took off his hat and faced the west; his mouth twitched and his look of resolution softened.
“This is mighty decent in you, Mr. Landray, it is so. I ain't saying much, but Benny and me won't forget this in many a long day.” and he held out his hand. “Maybe it is the money they're after, as you say; I reckon it is, for they've undertaken right smart of a contract just to get even with me for killing that half-breed.”
The two bands had now united, and after a brief parley, charged down on the hill with loud yells. Stephen and Rogers withdrew from their exposed position and sought the shelter of the barricade.
“There's no need of throwing away ammunition,” said Rogers, surveying the little group that formed about him. “There'll be plenty of noise, but you'll get used to that. Hear the vermin yell!”
His first thought was of Benny. He hid the child away in a safe place.
“Is this an Indian fight, pop? And is them real live Indians?” the child asked eagerly, as he nestled down in the nook his father had found for him.