While he had the shelter afforded by the cabin there was some little sense of security. But as soon as he got beyond this bulwark the shaking fit seized him again. For the first few yards there was little or no cover save a few stumps and a pile of firewood, and behind these he crept, hardly daring to breathe. He had buckled the filled cartridge belt around him, but the rifle was an impediment that could not be disposed of so easily. So long as he must crawl, he had to drag the weapon along as best he could; and remembering that he had heard that even a plug of snow will cause a gun barrel to burst when it is fired, he halted behind the woodpile and stopped the muzzle of the rifle with a rag torn from his handkerchief. From the woodpile to the nearest forest cover on that side was only a matter of a few rods, but the interval was bare, and he had to have another fight with himself before he could drum up the courage to cross it. Once among the trees, however, he felt safer; and after he had emerged from the mouth of the gulch and could take shelter in the groving of aspens that lined the valley stream, he told himself that the worst was over. In the fringe of quaking aspens he stumbled upon the horses and jacks of the invaders, the burros still standing with their packs on. It was not until he was fairly among the tethered animals that he remembered the man that Bromley had shot, and reflected that if the outlaw was only wounded, he would be somewhere near the horses. The thought had barely flashed upon him before he saw the wounded man. He was sitting with his back to a tree and mumbling curses. Philip slipped aside cautiously and pushed on, again with cold chills racing up and down his spine. The wounded man was evidently only half conscious.... If he had been fully conscious.... Philip broke into a nervous run, following the stream for possibly an eighth of a mile before he ventured to turn aside to climb the slope which should lead to the outlying position above the thicket in the gulch where the outlaws were in hiding. Toiling upward breathlessly, it seemed to take him a frightfully long time to gain the proper elevation. Unlike the spur on the western side of the gulch, this one was thinly wooded and was besprent with a scattering of boulders; he was in constant fear of dislodging one of these and thus giving a premature alarm. With the occasional crack of a rifle in the depths below to guide him, he finally reached a height from which he could look down upon the clump of young firs; and squeezing himself between two of the surface boulders he pumped the loading lever of the Winchester and prepared to give the firing signal agreed upon.