In spite of his decision his eyes at length wandered again to that side of the wall, and a second time he thought he caught a glimpse of a human figure creeping among the rocks, but much nearer now. Then he realized that it was no illusion. He had, in very truth, seen a man, and as he still looked a rifle was thrust over a ledge, a puff of fire leaping from its muzzle. From a point above him came a cry that he knew to be a death yell, and the body of a warrior shot downward, striking on the ledges until it bounded clear of them and crashed into the valley below. Then the figure of the man who had fired the shot stepped upon a rocky shelf, held aloft the weapon with which he had dealt sudden and terrible death, and cried in a tremendous voice: "Come forth, young William! Your besieger will besiege no more! Ef I do say it myself, I've never made a better shot." It was the Little Giant. Never had the sight of him been more welcome, and raising himself stiffly to his feet and moving his own rifle about his head, Will shouted in reply: "It was not only your greatest shot, but the greatest shot ever made by anybody." "Stay whar you are," cried Bent. "You're too stiff an' sore to risk climbin' jest yet. I'll be with you soon." But it was almost dark before the Little Giant crept around the face of the cliff and reached the hollow in which the lad lay. Then he told him that he had seen some of the rocks falling and as he was carrying Will's glasses he was able to pick out the warrior at the top of the cliff. The successful shot followed and the siege was over. Night had now come and it was an extremely delicate task to find their way back to the valley, but they made the trip at last without mishap. Once again on level ground Will was forced to sit down and rest until a sudden faintness passed. The Little Giant regarded him with sympathy. "You had a pretty tough time, young William, thar's no denyin' that," he said. "It's hard to be cooped up in a hole in a mountainside, with an enemy shootin' at you an' sendin' avalanches down on you, an' you never seein' him a-tall." "I never saw him once until he plunged from the cliff with your bullet through him." "Wa'al, it's all over now, an' we'll go back to the camp. The boys had been worryin' 'bout you some, and I concluded I'd come out an' look fur you, an' ef it hadn't been fur my concludin' so I guess you'd been settin' thar in that holler a month from now, an' the Indian would hev been settin' in a holler above you. At least I hev saved you from a long waitin' spell." "You have," said Will with heartfelt emphasis, "and again I thank you." "Come on, then. I kin see the fire shinin' through the trees an' Jim an' Steve cookin' our supper."