Soon the edge of the gray stone cliff below shut out the lower level of
cedars. While resting he listened. Then he marked his course down the
last bit of slanting ground to the cliff bench which faced the valley.
This space was open, rough with crumbling rock and dead cedar brush--a
difficult place to cross without sound. Deliberate in his choice of
steps, very slow in moving, Hare went on with a stealth which satisfied
even his intent ear. When the wide gray strip of stone drew slowly into
the circle of his downcast gaze he sank to the ground with a slight
trembling in all his limbs. There was a thick bush on the edge of the
cliff; in three steps he could reach it and, unseen himself, look down
upon the camp.
A little cloud or smoke rose lazily and capped a slender column of blue.
Sounds were wafted softly upward, the low voices of men in conversation,
a merry whistle, and then the humming of a tune. Hare's mouth was dry
and his temples throbbed as he asked himself what it was best to do. The
answer came instantaneously as though it had lain just below the level of
his conscious thought. "I'll watch till Holderness walks out into sight,
jump up with a yell when he comes, give him time to see me, to draw his
gun--then kill him!"
Hare slipped to the bush, drew in a deep long breath that stilled his
agitation, and peered over the cliff.
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