Birds began chattering an hour before sunrise.

Morisson said, "Eh?" and sat up.  Rubbing a fist in the corner of a crusty eye, he scanned the room.

Robinson wasn't there.

"Hey, Robinson!" the giant called in a low voice.  He got up, feeling considerably better than he had the previous night.

Everything outside was a thin gray color.  

Morisson yawned on the threshold.

"How are you, my friend?" Robinson appeared in the clearing, carrying a hat full of berries and roots.

"Ever'thin's all right, huh?" asked the big man.  "I woke up an' yew warn't 'ere an-----well, I got worried."

"No one approached during the night."

"Yew wuz up all tha' time?"

"I was aware of what was going on around us."

Morisson stretched out a hand towards the hat.  "That breakfast?"

"It is," answered Robinson as he handed over the hat.  "Now I will go get us water in that jar we found in your shack."

"I"m feeling purty good, Robinson.  Them Injun magic tricks o' yers, or hill, or whate'er they are, sure seemed t' hep," said Morrison.  "We kin git movin' t'day."

"Good."

The giant shrugged his shoulders.  "Gittin' kinda used t' this here shack," he said.  "Like 'twas home or something."

"You will be able to feel that way about other places."  Robinson left to bring back water.200Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡruwsr0u2Vr
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Three hours earlier, Kennedy had been standing beside the horse he'd taken from the dead sergeant.  He was holding a jar up towards the bright round moon.  "Not a drop left," he said. "Right when ol' Kennedy could use it."  He tossed the jar away from him.

It smashed into jagged fragments against a tree trunk.

"Yew ain't much o' a nag neither," he told the stolen mount.  "Cain't e'en ride ya in this dang woods wi'out a falls off.  Kennedy's gonna need ya, though, t' haul them two bodies downhill.  'Course, it ain't a'gonna do t' come traipsin' inta Fort Lonestar wi' ya, have 'em wonderin' 'ow I come t' have the sarge's nag.  Gonna hafta ditch ya eventual, but ya kin do some work 'fore that."

The trapper moved slowly through the trees.  The moonlight made each tree stand out sharply and clearly.  The forest was like rows of giant silhouettes.  High above a single night bird went flapping by.

"Ne'er did find out 'ow much Morisson's worth daid," Kennedy said to himself.  "Don't matter, they gotta pay somehin' for his carcass.  An' I know the hill is worth five thousand daid.  Tha' means I'm gonna have me no less n' maybe ten thousand dollars by th' time I turn them fugitives in an' sell this  here sack o' gold."

The horse's hooves crackled on the dry leaves.

"Dang it now," continued Kennedy.  "Think 'bout what Kennedy's gonna do wi' a piece o' money like tha'.  More'n I e'er really thought 'bout makin'.  Might be I'll g' down an' live in some big town for awhile.  Or I kin even go out t' somewheres like San Francisco an' git me a new wifey.  Always ha' thought I'd like me a redhaired gal fer awhile.  They gots plenny o' redheaded hussys in Frisco.  Wi' ten...."

Something didn't feel right.

Kennedy, not moving his head, turned his eyes left and right.  No sign of anything.

Still, something didn't feel right.

He'd reloaded his Sharps rifle after killing Sergeant Crawford.  It was ready under his arm.  "Cain't see nuttin' t'shoot at, though," he said to himself.

The horse gave a head-shaking snort.  

"She feels it, too."

The trapper went on.  The shack should be about two and a half miles from here.

"If'n I'm lucky they'll both be sleepin' when I git there.  Ah kin shoot 'em 'fore they ever wake up."

Somebody was watching him.

Far off to his right, he thought he caught a flash of something in the moonlight.

"A feather," he realized. "Oh, lordy, it's them Utes!"

Somebody on the left, too, was closer.  A long shadow was seen for just part of a second.

"Gotta git someplace whur ah kin make me a stand." 

Behind him as well.  He didn't see anything back there, or hear anything.  He had a feeling.

Suddenly Kennedy let go of the reins and grabbed the sergeant's Springfield rifle from the saddle.  He dropped back and slapped the horse across the flank.

The animal reared, then went galloping on ahead, snorting.

Kennedy threw himself into the brush.  Down on hands and knees, with a rifle in each hand, he began crawling a zigzag course.

"Wazzat 'nuff fer them redskins?" he wondered.  "They always wan' 'orses, I knows dat.  Mebbe they'll go off after tha' danged 'orse an' leave me alone."

He could hear the animal going further away, thrashing its way upward.

Somebody a few yards ahead of him.

Kennedy saw him, a brave in buckskin trousers, with an army rifle in his hands.

"T'ain't workin', t'ain't workin'.  There's 'nuff o' 'em so's they kin go after th' horse an' me, too."

The Ute brave he'd seen was not in sight now.  Kennedy kept working his way back downhill.

"Tha' shack now.  If'n I'd of got there, I could maybe of held 'em off.  Ah don't even know how many I gotta account fer."

There was another one.  Glimpsed only briefly.  Down to his left.

"Gonna hafta shoot m'way through 'em.  I  ain't a'gonna crawl all night.  Next one I spots's gonna git it."

He was able to cover another hundred yards.  Then he saw an Indian moving between trees.  Kennedy dropped his rifle and stood to fire the Springfield.

He missed.

Crouched again, he listened.

For a long time, there was no sound.  No sound at all, not even an insect chirping.

Then he heard them coming closer to him.  Coming from the left and the right.  From behind, and in front.

There was no way to shoot himself clear of them all!

Getting rid of both the rifles, Kennedy rose again.  "Um, lookit," he shouted.  "Ah ain't a'got no weapons.  I'll make a deal wi' ya."

There was no response, but he knew they were easing nearer to him.

"Ya got th' 'orse, fine.  Keep it.  Good ol' Kennedy, he don't care," he called out.  "Now, here.  Here's a little extra sumptin'.  Ya lemme go on 'bout m' business an' this is all yers."  He tugged out the pouch of gold.  The blood was drying on it.

Kennedy jerked it open and plucked out a nugget.  "Lookit there now.  Y'see 'ow it flashes when th' moon hits it.  Thaz gol'.  Got me a whole sack o' gol' 'ere an' if...."

They killed him from three different directions.