goin' to be a tough trip. Lucky we got our canteens."
"'Con camp' meaning a tuberculosis sanitarium?" asked Stone.
"Yep. Jest a bunch of tents an' mebbe a shack or two. The tubs eat an' sleep an' live out in the open. They say it cures 'em. They must be water thar but the Lord knows whar it is. We're kinder up against it. I'm goin' to take a shot over among them cottonwoods, jest to see if them devils are thar. We got ter keep our eyes peeled long to'ard dark or they'll rush us when they git help from the reservation. No good mincin' matters, they're after our scalps."
He sighted and fired where some willow scrub masked the lower trunks of a cottonwood clump. Instantly three rifles answered, their lead spatting the limestone over their heads, one bullet singing far back into the cave.
"Better shootin' from whar they are now," commented Harvey. "We best go to work an' fix up a barricade closer the entrance, well as they'll let us. We don't need to show ennything but our hands as we raise it. Then we got to git water. Thar's a trickle back in the cave thet feeds a pool. Kind of limey. We'll hev to go easy on it. And pick up wood for a fire. It's hot enough now, but it's liable to be damn cold later on. One comfort, the 'Paches 'll be chilly, too. That outfit ain't got blankets 'less they fetch some in to 'em."
The afternoon wore on without further molestation
