"Wal, that 's got a front o' thirty feet, an' slopes back 'bout as fur, with a shelf hangin' over it like a roof.

Best nat'ral fort ever I see, an' only one way o' gittin' inter it, an' that the devil o' a crooked climb.

Wal, we 've stocked that place fer a siege with chuck an' ammunition, an' I reckon four men kin 'bout hold it agin the whole county till hell freezes over.

It's in easy rifle shot o' both ther cabin an' ther shaft, an' that Biff Farnham is mighty liable ter git another shock when he comes traipsin' up yere fer ter wipe out ther 'Little Yankee.' Ol' Bill Hicks ain't bin prospectin' fer thirty years, an' holdin' down claims with a gun, without learnin' somethin' about ther business.

I 'm ready to buck this yere Farnham at any game he wants ter play; damned if he can't take his chice, law er rifles, an' I 'll give him a bellyful either way." No one spoke for a long while, the three men apparently occupied with their own thoughts.