CHAPTER XVII.
A COUNCIL OF WAR In the magic of a moment a dozen angry men were pouring from the shaft-house, their guns barking viciously between their curses.
Beyond, at the edge of their dark cover, Hicks and Brown rose eagerly to their knees, while their ready rifles spat swift return fire, not all of it wasted.

But Winston had vanished in the green underbrush as completely as though he had dropped into the sea.

When he finally emerged it was behind the protecting chaparral, his clothing rags, his breathing the sobs of utter exhaustion.

Brown, the spell of battle upon him, never glanced aside, his eyes along the brown rifle-barrel; but Hicks sprang enthusiastically to his feet, uttering a growl of hearty welcome.
"Damn it," he exclaimed, his old eyes twinkling with admiration, "but you 're a man!" The engineer smiled, his hand pressed hard against his side.

"Maybe I am," he gasped, "but I 'm mighty near all in just now.