“Caution is bully!” was the reply of Jim Diggs; “don’t p’int that thing at me—it might go off.” The man returned the weapon to his belt, satisfied with the lesson which he had given, but certain at the same time that he would have to answer for the act at some future day. The Indians looked calmly on, expecting a fray, and were rather disappointed when they saw Jim Diggs bottle up his wrath and say no more. The position they occupied was a strange one. The pass was not more than twenty paces wide, bordered by perpendicular rocks twenty feet high without lateral passes on either side. No movement was made by the trappers, and their enemies did not care for another close grapple by daylight. An hour of inaction passed, and the ruffians began to gather courage and talk of another attack. “Say,” cried a voice overhead. “Won’t you please go ’way frum hyar? I ask it on my knees.” They looked up and saw Old Pegs standing calmly on the summit of the rock, looking earnestly down at them. “Won’t you _please_ go ’way?” he repeated. “We wanter come through this yer pass, ourselves.” “Why don’t you come, then?” demanded Jim Diggs, restraining some of his companions who were about to fire on the old hunter. “Acause you’ve got some chaps down thar with long poles, and the cattle kain’t come through,” replied Old Pegs. “That’s bad!” said Jim Diggs, “and they are a dreadful obstinite lot of men, too, and I’m afraid they’ll want to stay whar they are.” “Can’t we persuade ’em ter go ’way?” said Old Pegs. “I’m afraid not, old man.” “I’ll try what _I_ kin do!” roared Old Pegs. “Go to work, boys.” The ravine was narrow as we have said, and the sides very precipitous. The old man suddenly disappeared, and scarcely had he done so when the sky began to rain large stones about the size of a man’s head, which came rattling down about the skulls of the enemy in a dreadfully unpleasant way, while nothing could be seen of the men who were throwing them, and who lurked far enough back of the verge to be out of range. “Kain’t we persuade yer?” yelled Old Pegs, as stone after stone came crashing down. “Oh, yes, we kin. Git up and dust, you scum of mortality. You children of evil, _git_!” It was death to remain, for, hemmed in that narrow pass, while the rocks continued to come down like rain upon their heads, four men already lay dead, and others were desperately wounded, while the mocking laughter of the trappers, perched upon the rocks, rung in their ears. Worst of all, they could not see their assailants, who prudently kept back out of reach while they continued to send the stones flying over into the pass.