about and beheld Lander behind a boulder, his rifle aiming at two wolves. The wolves' heads were all that was visible.
"Don't shoot!" yelled Baker. "Come back here!"
He spoke too late. The rifle cracked and one of the wolves came crashing down the side of the bluff. It rolled to Lander's feet and caused him to think he had lost his senses by exposing the legs of a man.
"Good heavens!" he gasped, staggering back.
With an oath Baker ran to him, yelping:
"Wanter cook us, ye derned fool?"
"What is it?" faltered Lander, glaring at the wolf's head and body and the pair of legs.
"Injuns spyin' on us. Now that ye've salted one o' them th' hull tribe'll be here after our ha'r."
With that he ripped aside the wolfskin and revealed a warrior in full paint. One glance and he muttered:
"Sin an' mis'ry! Jest as I feared. Blackfoot! Lawdy massy, but won't they walk it to us! Wal, he's dead. Wish they all was. Git yer sculp an' we'll be pickin' out a good place to die in."
