WINNING A FIGHT After Sanderson shot the big man who had tried to rush him, there was a silence in the defile.

Those of Dale's men who had positions of security held them, not exposing themselves to the deadly fire of Sanderson and the others.
For two hours Sanderson clung to his precarious position in the fissure, until his muscles ached with the strain and his eyes blurred because of the constant vigil.

But he grimly held the place, knowing that upon him depended in a large measure the safety of the men on the opposite side of the defile.
The third hour was beginning when Sanderson saw a puff of smoke burst from behind a rock held by one of his men; he heard the crash of a pistol, and saw one of Dale's men flop into view from behind a rock near him.
Sanderson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men.

Evidently the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was exposed to Sanderson.
He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had been the result.
The man was not dead; Sanderson could see him writhing.

He was badly wounded, too, and Sanderson did not shoot, though he could have finished him.
But the incident drew Sanderson's attention to the possibilities of a new position.