“Damn them!” he whispered fiercely. “How badly are you hurt, Harry?” “Can’t say; haven’t had time to look at it. But the honors are easy, so far: I got one of them to pay for the leg, and got him good--I saw ’em carrying him off. Where the devil did you drop from?--out of the blue?” “Never mind that part of it now. I want one of the rifles and a belt of ammunition. Hook ’em over here while I dig this hole big enough to take them through!” The transfer was quickly made, and with the gun in his hands, Philip delayed only long enough to get a briefed story of the attack. Bromley had been routed out of his bunk about an hour earlier by somebody hammering on the door. When he opened in answer to the knocking there was a short and brittle parley. Neighbors had made a blunt demand for a surrender of the mining claim, asserting that it was his discovery, made early in the summer. “Naturally, I told him to go chase himself,” said the play-boy. “Then the five of ’em started to rush little Harry, and one of them got me in the leg with a pistol shot before I could slam the door and drop the bar. I punched a hole in the chinking, and a few rounds from the Winchester drove ’em back into the woods for cover. They’ve been there--or four of ’em have--ever since, taking pot shots at the cabin. Now tell me what happened to make you turn back.” “Just a piece of good luck--the story will keep till we’re out of this mess. You’re not fighting alone any more; there are two of us on the outside. Keep down and don’t let them get you through the door. Those slabs won’t stop a rifle bullet.” “Haven’t I found that out?” said Bromley, with a grim chuckle. “But tell me--what’s the plan of campaign?” “This: I’m going to try to circle around and get behind that bunch of trees where they’ve taken cover. I’ve picked up a helper--an old prospector and mountain man that I met last spring. He has his own rifle, and when the circus begins, you turn loose through your loophole and pump lead just as fast as you can. In that way we’ll get ’em from three directions at once. Will that hurt leg let you do your part?” The grim little chuckle came again. “I don’t shoot with my legs. Wave your little baton and I’ll come in on the fortissimo passages.” “That’s all, then. Take care of yourself, and don’t unbar the door until you are sure we are on the other side of it. I’m gone.”