Above， revolver in hand， a man was peering down overthe edge of the hole. He peered for a long time at theprone and motionless body beneath him. After a while thestranger sat down on the edge of the hole so that he couldsee into it， and rested the revolver on his knee. Reachinghis hand into a pocket， he drew out a wisp of brownpaper. Into this he dropped a few crumbs of tobacco. Thecombination became a cigarette， brown and squat， withthe ends turned in. Not once did he take his eyes from thebody at the bottom of the hole. He lighted the cigaretteand drew its smoke into his lungs with a caressing intakeof the breath. He smoked slowly. Once the cigarette wentout and he relighted it. And all the while he studied thebody beneath him.
In the end he tossed the cigarette stub away and roseto his feet. He moved to the edge of the hole. Spanningit， a hand resting on each edge， and with the revolver stillin the right hand， he muscled his body down into thehole. While his feet were yet a yard from the bottom hereleased his hands and dropped down.
At the instant his feet struck bottom he saw the pocketminer’sarm leap out， and his own legs knew a swift，jerking grip that overthrew him. In the nature of the jumphis revolver-hand was above his head. Swiftly as the griphad flashed about his legs， just as swiftly he brought therevolver down. He was still in the air， his fall in process ofcompletion， when he pulled the trigger. The explosion wasdeafening in the confined space. The smoke filled the holeso that he could see nothing. He struck the bottom onhis back， and like a cat’s the pocket-miner’s body was ontop of him. Even as the miner’s body passed on top， thestranger crooked in his right arm to fire； and even in thatinstant the miner， with a quick thrust of elbow， struck hiswrist. The muzzle was thrown up and the bullet thuddedinto the dirt of the side of the hole.
The next instant the stranger felt the miner’s handgrip his wrist. The struggle was now for the revolver.
Each man strove to turn it against the other’s body. Thesmoke in the hole was clearing. The stranger， lying on hisback， was beginning to see dimly. But suddenly he wasblinded by a handful of dirt deliberately flung into hiseyes by his antagonist. In that moment of shock his gripon the revolver was broken. In the next moment he felta smashing darkness descend upon his brain， and in themidst of the darkness even the darkness ceased.
But the pocket-miner fired again and again， until therevolver was empty. Then he tossed it from him and，breathing heavily， sat down on the dead man’s legs.
The miner was sobbing and struggling for breath.
“Measly skunk！” he panted； “a-campin’ on my trail an’
lettin’ me do the work， an’ then shootin’ me in the back！”
He was half crying from anger and exhaustion. Hepeered at the face of the dead man. It was sprinkled withloose dirt and gravel， and it was difficult to distinguish thefeatures.
“Never laid eyes on him before，” the miner concludedhis scrutiny. “Just a common an’ ordinary thief， damn him！
An’ he shot me in the back！ He shot me in the back！”
He opened his shirt and felt himself， front and back， onhis left side.
“Went clean through， and no harm done！” he criedjubilantly. “I’ll bet he aimed all right all right； but he drewthe gun over when he pulled the trigger—the cuss！ But Ifixed ’m！ Oh， I fixed ’m！”