“So, that’s it!” he said to Firio.

Firio nodded his understanding of Leddy’s plan to take them in flank under cover of the arroyo.

“We shall have to respond in kind!” said Jack.

He left his hat where his head had been and began crawling along the side of the arroyo, but paused to call to Prather, who, now that no bullets were flying, was trying the mechanism of his rifle with a somewhat steadier hand: 

“Prather, if you could manage to get up there beside Firio and join him in pouring out a magazine full at the right moment, it would help!  If not, put your hat up there beside mine.  You can do that without exposing yourself.”

Jack’s tone was that of one who urges a tired man to take a few more steps, or an invalid without any appetite to try another sup of broth.  It had no hint of irony.

“No matter,” said Firio.  “Leddy know he can’t fight.  Leddy know there is only two of us!” His tone was without satire, but its sting was sharper than satire; that of an Indian shrug over a negligible quantity.  It started Prather on all fours laboriously toward him.

“I am going to the turn in the arroyo that commands the next turn,” Jack explained.  “When I whistle you empty your magazines.  Keep your heads down and fire fast, no matter if not accurately, so as to disturb their aim at me!”

“Si!” said Firio.  “I know!” No one could deny that he was having a very good time making war in the company of Senor Jack.  “Yes, Mister Prather,” he added, when, after toiling painfully on his belly for the few feet he had to go, Prather lay with his stark face near Firio’s; a face strangely like that of John Wingfield, Sr. when he saw Jasper Ewold from the drawing-room doorway.  “For your life, Mister Prather! Si!  Up a little more!  Chin high as mine, so!  Eye on sight, so!”

Prather obeyed in an abyssmal sort of shame which, for the time being, conquered his fear, though not his palsy; for his rifle barrel trembled on its rest.

Meanwhile, Jack had crept to the bend in the arroyo.  He was listening.  It would not do to show his head as a warning of his presence.  Faintly he heard men moving in the sand, moving slowly and cautiously.  At the moment he chose as the right one, with rifle cocked and finger on trigger, he gave his signal.  Then he sprang to the top of the bank, fully exposed to the marksmen at the water-hole.  For no half measure would do.  He must have a full view of the bottom of the next bend.  There he saw two crawling figures.  He fired twice and dropped down with three or four stinging whispers in his ears and a second volley overhead as he was under cover.  Again he sprang up over the bank in the temptation to see the result of his aim.  One of the would-be flankers lay prostrate and still, face downward.  The other was disappearing beyond the second bend.