THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX
From behind a rock shield Luck was studying the ledge. "They're Injuns—or there are Injuns in the bunch, at least," he told them after a moment, "See that sharp point sticking up straight ahead? I saw an Injun peeking around the edge—to the south. You watch for him, Andy, and let him have it where he lives next time he sticks his head out." He swung the glasses slowly, taking every inch of the rim in his field of vision. As he moved them he named the man he wanted to watch each place where he had reason to suspect that someone was hiding.
The disheartening part of it was that he needed about a dozen more men than he had; for the rock wall which was the rim of the Frying-pan seemed alive with shooters who waited only for a fair target. Then the Native Son, crouched down between a rock and a clump of brush, turned his head to see what his horse was looking at, back whence they had come.
"Look behind you, Luck," he advised with more calmness than one would expect of a man in his straits. "They're back in the pines, too."
"Fight 'em off—and take care that your backs
264
