"We ain't far from 'em now, an' if
they get us they'll get us about here."
As though to punctuate his speech with the final period a
rifle cracked above them. Eddie jumped spasmodically and
clutched his breast.
"I'm hit," he said, quite unemotionally.
Billy Byrne's revolver had answered the shot from above
them, the bullet striking where Billy had seen a puff of smoke
following the rifle shot. Then Billy turned toward Eddie.
"Hit bad?" he asked.
"Yep, I guess so," said Eddie. "What'll we do? Hide up
here, or ride back after the others?"
Another shot rang out above them, although Billy had been
watching for a target at which to shoot again--a target which
he had been positive he would get when the man rose to fire
again. And Billy did see the fellow at last--a few paces from
where he had first fired; but not until the other had dropped
Eddie's horse beneath him. Byrne fired again, and this time he
had the satisfaction of seeing a brown body rise, struggle a
moment, and then roll over once upon the grass before it
came to rest.
"I reckon we'll stay here," said Billy, looking ruefully at
Eddie's horse.
Eddie rose and as he did so he staggered and grew very
white. Billy dismounted and ran forward, putting an arm
about him.
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