that Hatfield was flanking McCoy. It was plain that the old man must either retreat or perish. But the old fox had not lost his cunning. He quickly saw the danger and effected a safe retreat, while the Hatfields stopped at the foot of the coveted fortress. It was seen that two of the Hatfield crowd were wounded. The sheriff and his posse now pressed forward with speed. Within a few minutes they joined McCoy. It was almost dark, now, when the forces were once more united, and approached within range of the Hatfield guns. Bullets whistled and cut the twigs of limbs over the heads of the pursuers. The sheriff commanded his men to seek cover. Instantly every man "treed." Then began a fight after the fashion of Indian battles of old. The moment a body was exposed from a protecting tree, it was certain to become a target for many guns. Gradually, carefully, nevertheless surely the posse forged ahead, always under cover, yet advancing, concentrating and getting closer. Escape for the Hatfields seemed now impossible, unless they could put into effect one of their wonderful dashes which in the past had extricated them out of many dangers and difficulties. Cap Hatfield directed the fire of his men with utter disregard for their own safety. He seemed to bear a charmed life. The target of every sharpshooter in the sheriff's posse, not once did a bullet touch him. The Hatfield rifles did better execution. The posse, which had left Williamson the previous morning with flying colors and full of hope, was now decimated. Two of the deputies were fatally wounded and seven members of the posse more or less severely. As night drew near the battle ceased. The posse camped. A council of war was held. Some were for pressing on in the night. Others, with cooler judgment, suggested that it was safer to starve the outlaws into submission. The latter opinion prevailed. Early on the following morning (Friday), there was a short but hot skirmish during which another of the posse was wounded. At noon the sheriff was reinforced by a force led by J. H. Baldwin. This man had, for some time, led the Hatfields a hard life. Ever on their trail, he either captured them or drove them from the country. Cap and his band were those who had given him the most trouble and had constantly eluded him, thus far. Now he had another opportunity to try conclusions with them. Baldwin was a splendidly courageous man, and a crack shot with the rifle. He at once took the lead. "When I was a boy," he said, "I smoked many a rabbit out of a hollow tree." With this remark he despatched two men to Williamson for a supply of dynamite. The besiegers sat down to wait. Late on Friday evening Baldwin "winged" one of the Hatfields. The man had attempted to reach water. At nine o'clock Saturday morning, the dynamite arrived and preparations were made to place the mine. By eleven o'clock the work was complete, the match applied and the command given to retire.