“I’m of your mind about it,” said Black Rifle.  “As soon as he reloads he’ll chance another shot at where he thinks we’re lying, and that will be his last.”

Robert heard the low words, and he shivered again a little.  He could never grow used to the taking of human life, even in dire necessity.  He knew that Willet had spoken the truth, and that the red sharpshooter would fire only one more shot.  Soon he had the proof.  The second flash came from the same point.  Again the bullet glanced among the rocks, but, before the report of the rifle died, another answered.  It was that of the hunter and he found his mark.  A cry came from the bush, followed by a fierce yell of anger from those farther back, and then the sinister stillness settled again over the wilderness.

“The Indian has gone!” whispered Grosvenor in an awed tone to Robert.

“Yes, Dave fired at the flash, and he never misses.  The cry showed it.  But it will make the warriors all the more eager to take us.”

The silence lasted about a quarter of an hour, and then fire was opened upon them from three sides, bullets singing over their heads, or spattering upon the rocks.

“Lie flat, lads,” commanded Willet.  “This is random lead, and if we keep close to the earth ’twill all pass us by.  The warriors are seldom good marksmen.”

But one of the bullets, glancing from a rock, nipped Black Rifle in the shoulder.  It was a very slight wound, though, and its only effect was to make him more eager to reach his enemy.  In a few minutes his chance came as he caught a glimpse of a dusky but incautious figure among the trees, and, quick as a flash, drew trigger on it.  There was no cry, but he saw the shadowy figure go down, not to rise again, and the fierce soul of Black Rifle was satisfied.

Scattered shots were fired, after another silence, and a bullet grazed the back of Grosvenor’s hand, drawing a drop or two of blood.  It stung for a few moments, but, on the whole, he was proud of the little hurt.  It was a badge of honor, and made him truly a member of this great forest band.  It also stimulated his zeal, and he became eager for a shot of his own.  He watched intently and when the warriors fired again he sent his bullet at the flash, as he had seen Willet and Black Rifle do.  He did not know whether he had hit anything, but he hoped.  Tayoga, who fired for the first time presently brought down a warrior, and Robert wounded another.  But Willet and Black Rifle talked together in whispers and they were anxious.

“They won’t try to rush us so long as we keep among the rocks,” said the hunter.  “They know now that we’re good shots, but they’ll hold us here until day when their main force will come up and then we’ll be finished.”

“It seems pretty certain that’s their plan now,” said the scout, “and between you and me, Dave, we’ve got to get away from here somehow.  The moon has faded a bit, and that will help us a little.  What do you think, Tayoga?”