The remainder of that day, as well as much of the gloomy night following, composed a silent, lingering horror.  The fierce pangs of hunger no longer gnawed, but a dull apathy now held the helpless defenders.  One of the wounded died, a mere lad, sobbing pitifully for his mother; an infantryman, peering forth from his covert, had been shot in the face, and his scream echoed among the rocks in multiplied accents of agony; while Wyman lay tossing and moaning, mercifully unconscious.  The others rested in their places, scarcely venturing to stir a limb, their roving, wolfish eyes the only visible evidence of remaining life, every hope vanished, yet each man clinging to his assigned post of duty in desperation.  There was but little firing—­the defenders nursing their slender stock, the savages biding their time.  When night shut down the latter became bolder, and taunted cruelly those destined to become so soon their hapless victims.  Twice the maddened men fired recklessly at those dancing devils, and one pitched forward, emitting a howl of pain that caused his comrades to cower once again behind their covers.  One and all these frontiersmen recognized the inevitable—­before dawn the end must come.  No useless words were spoken; the men merely clinched their teeth and waited.

Hampton crept closer in beside the girl while the shadows deepened, and ventured to touch her hand.  Perhaps the severe strain of their situation, the intense loneliness of that Indian-haunted twilight, had somewhat softened her resentment, for she made no effort now to repulse him.

“Kid,” he said at last, “are you game for a try at getting out of this?”

She appeared to hesitate over her answer, and he could feel her tumultuous breathing.  Some portion of her aversion had vanished.  His face was certainly not an unpleasant one to look upon, and there were others other sex who had discovered in it a covering for a multitude of sins.  Hampton smiled slightly while he waited; he possessed some knowledge of the nature feminine.

“Come, Kid,” he ventured finally, yet with new assurance vibrating in his low voice; “this is surely a poor time and place for any indulgence in tantrums, and you ’ve got more sense.  I ’m going to try to climb up the face of that cliff yonder,—­it’s the only possible way out from here,—­and I propose to take you along with me.”

She snatched her hand roughly away, yet remained facing him.  “Who gave you any right to decide what I should do?”

The man clasped his fingers tightly about her slender arm, advancing his face until he could look squarely into hers.  She read in the lines of that determined countenance an inflexible resolve which overmastered her.

“The right given by Almighty God to protect any one of your sex in peril,” he replied.  “Before dawn those savage fiends will be upon us.  We are utterly helpless.  There remains only one possible path for escape, and I believe I have discovered it.  Now, my girl, you either climb those rocks with me, or I shall kill you where you are.  It is that, or the Sioux torture.  I have two shots left in this gun,—­one for you, the other for myself.  The time has come for deciding which of these alternatives you prefer.”