further. Then he halted in perplexity and scratched his head. Ben watched every movement as a cat watches a mouse.
The sharpshooter had been fooled and he knew it, and at last he retraced his steps to where the trail overlapped itself. Then he hunted for the back trail, leading to the hollow, and finding it, passed on, with his rifle clutched tightly in both hands and his eyes peering ahead like those of a hawk.
"Captain, is that you?" It was Gilmore who spoke, not loudly, but still strong enough to be heard by the sharpshooter, who instantly came to a halt.
To have spoken would have been to expose himself, so Ben did not answer. Instead, he crossed the brushwood and came up directly behind the Tagal, who had his rifle up and pointed at the direction from which the voice had proceeded.
"I say, is that you, captain?" went on the injured man. His disability had made him more fearful than ever. He, too, had his weapon up, but his hand shook so it was doubtful if he would have been able to hit the object of his aim.
Still Ben did not answer, but came as close as possible to the sharpshooter, who now advanced several steps. Suddenly the Tagal caught sight of Gilmore
