Whether he did any damage or not, a dozen rifles answered
venomously and flicked up tiny spurts of sand in the close neighborhood of the
four.
"If they keep on trying," Lite commented drily, "they might make a killing,
soon as they learn how to shoot straight."
"'S jest like them dang Injuns!" Applehead grumbled, shooing the three before
him down the draw. "Four t' our one--it takes jest about that big a majority
'fore they feel comf table about buildin' up a fight. Lead yore bosses down
till we're outa easy shootin' distance, boys, 'n' then we'll head out fer
where Luck ought t' be. If they fixed a trap fer us, they've fixed another fer
him, chances is, 'n! the sooner us fellers git t'gether the better show we'll
all of us have. You kin see, the way they worked it to split the bunch, that
they ain't so dang anxious t' tie into us when we're t'gether--'n' that's why
we can't git t' Luck a dang bit too soon, now I'm tellin' yuh!"
Weary and Pink were finding things to say, also, but old Applehead went on
with his monologue just as though they were listening. Lite showed a
disposition to stop and take issue with the shooters who kept up a spiteful
firing from the ridge.
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