“Want, to get shot full of holes?  Wait!  I’ll show you.”

The guide sprang up, showing himself out on the ledge for one brief instant then throwing himself flat.

A sharp “ping” against the rocks, followed by a heavy report, told the story.  The guide had been not a second too soon in getting out of harm’s way, for the bullet would have gone right through him had be remained standing.

Quick as a flash Kringle’s rifle leaped to his shoulder, and he fired.  He had taken quick aim at a puff of smoke off toward the camp.

Not content with one shot he raked the bushes all about where the puff of smoke had been seen, emptying the magazine of the rifle in a few seconds.

Stacy Brown was fairly dancing with glee.

“Did you hit anything?” asked the boys breathlessly.

“Of course, I hit something; but whether I winged an Indian or not, I don’t know.  If I did, he probably is not seriously wounded.  You’ll hear a redskin yell when he’s hit bad.”

“That one I punched didn’t.  He was hit hard,” volunteered Stacy.

“He didn’t have time,” grinned Tad.  “You were too quick for him.”

“Look out!  There comes a volley!” warned Mr. Kringle.

The boys, led by the Professor tumbled into the corner in a heap, while the lead pattered in through the opening, rattling with great force like a handful of pebbles.

“They’re getting in a hurry,” averred the Professor.

“It’s growing dark.  They want to finish us before then, so we can’t play any tricks on them after that.  But, if they only knew it, and they probably do, they’ve got us beautifully trapped.  One man below and another at the other end of our tree would be able to keep us here till the springs run dry.  If there’s only two of them there, as I suspect is the case, they may not want to separate.  We’ll see, the minute it gets dark enough so that we can move about without being observed.”

Some of the sage brush that Kris Kringle had brought down to light up the cave lay outside on the ledge.  Using one of the poles, he cautiously raked the stuff inside, heaping it up not far from the entrance.

“What you doing that for?” questioned Stacy, unable to conceal his curiosity.

“You’ll see, by-and-by, when we get ready to do something else.  You don’t think I’m going to stay here all night, do you?”

There was no further firing on either side, though Mr. Kringle showed himself boldly several times.

Finally Tad tried it, and was greeted with a shot the instant he appeared in the opening.

“Must be me they’re after,” he suggested, with a forced grin, falling flat on the ledge, and wriggling back into the cave.

The twilight was upon them now.  The guide had been able to see the flash of the rifle below him, and had taken a quick shot at it when the enemy attempted to wing Tad Butler.  Kringle had no means of knowing whether his shot had been effective or not.