It won't do, you know, to waste two shots on one." "But what if you don't hit ?" "I _shall_ hit," said George, coolly.
"Good! now, there's stuff in that fellow," muttered Phineas, between his teeth.
The party below, after Marks had fired, stood, for a moment, rather undecided.
"I think you must have hit some on 'em," said one of the men.

"I heard a squeal!" "I'm going right up for one," said Tom.

"I never was afraid of niggers, and I an't going to be now.

Who goes after ?" he said, springing up the rocks.
George heard the words distinctly.

He drew up his pistol, examined it, pointed it towards that point in the defile where the first man would appear.
One of the most courageous of the party followed Tom, and, the way being thus made, the whole party began pushing up the rock,--the hindermost pushing the front ones faster than they would have gone of themselves.
On they came, and in a moment the burly form of Tom appeared in sight, almost at the verge of the chasm.
George fired,--the shot entered his side,--but, though wounded, he would not retreat, but, with a yell like that of a mad bull, he was leaping right across the chasm into the party.
"Friend," said Phineas, suddenly stepping to the front, and meeting him with a push from his long arms, "thee isn't wanted here." Down he fell into the chasm, crackling down among trees, bushes, logs, loose stones, till he lay bruised and groaning thirty feet below.