“Yes, an’ I reckon I broke his wrist—leas’wise, he drapped the tomahawk. It was a narrer shave fer you, lad.” “Indeed it was.” Rodney tried to catch his breath, which the sudden drop had knocked out of him. “Do you suppose he is alone?” “Ain’t supposin’ nuthin jest yit. Are you all right?” “I—think so.” Both pressed in close to the rocky wall, so that no one standing above could see them. They listened, but no sound from above reached them. “Perhaps the Indian ran away,” said Rodney, wiping the blood from where his left hand had been scratched. “Don’t be too sure, Rodney.” “If the enemy are so close we ought to warn the others.” “The rifle shot will do that. Maybe somebuddy will be comin’ this way soon.” They waited another five minutes, even the old frontiersman not knowing exactly what to do. Then they saw a frontiersman named Casbury coming forward, slowly and cautiously. “Look out!” shouted Barringford. “Injun on the rocks!” And he pointed upward. Casbury understood, and promptly dove out of sight behind some bushes. As he did this there was a crashing through the vines, and a mass of rocks and dirt came down directly in front of where Rodney and Barringford were standing. “Goin’ to bombard us with rocks, hey?” snorted the old frontiersman. “Maybe I kin play ye a trick fer that. Groan, Rodney, groan,” and he began to groan and moan, as if in the greatest of pain. Rodney did the same, keeping it up several minutes. Then both began to breathe heavily, as though totally exhausted. Several minutes more passed and Rodney and Barringford breathed softer and softer. Thrown off their guard, and thinking the whites dead or mortally hurt, three Indians leaned over the edge of the cliff to get a view of the situation. The young soldier and the old frontiersman were on the alert, and as soon as the warriors appeared they blazed away. Two drew back, one with a shot through the side of the neck. The third pitched forward with a yell, struck the rocks head first, and lay dead where he had landed. “There, I reckon thet will teach ’em a lesson,” cried Sam Barringford, as he and Rodney again loaded up. A shot was now fired by Casbury, and another Indian was hit in the shoulder. Then Casbury saw four Indians run from the front of the cliff and disappear in the bushes far back. “Come on, if you want to!” cried Casbury, and leaving the shelter of the cliff Rodney and Barringford made for the camp with all haste. Here they found all the others on guard. The midday meal was forgotten, and the men stood ready to shoot the moment a red warrior showed himself. “This is the worst possible place to be caught in,” said Rodney. “The Indians can get behind yonder trees and pick us off at will—if they have any firearms.” “I saw nothing but bows and arrows,” said Casbury. “Still, they may have guns.”