Many among the excited horde jabbering beneath actually looked at the cliff over and over again, yet failed to note the potentialities of the ledge, with its few tufts of grass growing where seeds had apparently been blown by the wind or dropped by passing birds.
Jenks understood, of course, that the real danger would arise when they visited the scene of their comrade's disaster.

Even then the wavering balance of chance might cast the issue in his favor.

He could only wait, with ready rifle, with the light of battle lowering in his eyes.
Of one thing at least he was certain--before they conquered him he would levy a terrible toll.
He glanced back at Iris.

Her face was pale beneath its mask of sunbrown.

She was bent over her Bible, and Jenks did not know that she was reading the 91st Psalm.