Billy couldn't think of anything to say. He turned to look up and down the canyon in search of the enemy. “Home!” whispered Eddie. “Home!” “Aw, shucks!” said Billy kindly. “You'll get home all right, kid. The boys must a-heard the shootin' an' they'll be along in no time now. Then we'll clean up this bunch o' coons an' have you back to El Orobo an' nursed into shape in no time.” Eddie tried to smile as he looked up into the other's face. He reached a hand out and laid it on Billy's arm. “You're all right, old man,” he whispered. “I know you're lyin' an' so do you; but it makes me feel better anyway to have you say them things.” Billy felt as one who has been caught stealing from a blind man. The only adequate reply of which he could think was, “Aw, shucks!” “Say,” said Eddie after a moment's silence, “if you get out o' here an' ever go back to the States promise me you'll look up maw and paw an' tell 'em I was comin' home--to stay. Tell 'em I died decent, too, will you--died like paw was always a-tellin' me my granddad died, fightin' Injuns 'round Fort Dodge somewheres.” “Sure,” said Billy; “I'll tell 'em. Gee! Look who's comin' here,” and as he spoke he flattened himself to the ground just as a bullet pinged against the rock above his head and the report of a rifle sounded from up the canyon. “That guy most got me. I'll have to be 'tendin' to business better'n this.” He drew himself slowly up upon his elbows, his carbine ready in his hand, and peered through a small aperture between two of the rocks which composed his breastwork. Then he stuck the muzzle of the weapon through, took aim and pulled the trigger. “Didje get him?” asked Eddie. “Yep,” said Billy, and fired again. “Got that one too. Say, they're tough-lookin' guys; but I guess they won't come so fast next time. Those two were right in the open, workin' up to us on their bellies. They must a-thought we was sleepin'.” For an hour Billy neither saw nor heard any sign of the enemy, though several times he raised his hat above the breastwork upon the muzzle of his carbine to draw their fire. It was midafternoon when the sound of distant rifle fire came faintly to the ears of the two men from somewhere far below them. “The boys must be comin',” whispered Eddie Shorter hopefully. For half an hour the firing continued and then silence again fell upon the mountains. Eddie began to wander mentally. He talked much of Kansas and his old home, and many times he begged for water. “Buck up, kid,” said Billy; “the boys'll be along in a minute now an' then we'll get you all the water you want.” But the boys did not come. Billy was standing up now, stretching his legs, and searching up and down the canyon for Indians. He was wondering if he could chance making a break for the valley where they stood some slight chance of meeting with their companions, and even as he considered the matter seriously there came a staccato report and Billy Byrne fell forward in a heap.