"Both them shots was lucky, Hoppy; the feller that fired at me did it
on the dead run; but that won't help us none if one of 'em connects
with us. You gimme that Sharps--got to show 'em that they're taking big
chances crowding us this way." He took the heavy rifle and turned in the
saddle. "It's an even thousand, if it's a yard. He don't look very big,
can't hardly tell him from his cayuse; an' the wind's puffy. Why don't
you dirty or rust this gun? The sun glitters all along the barrel. Well,
here goes."
"Missed by a mile," reproved Hopalong, who would have been stunned by
such a thing as a hit under the circumstances, even if his good-shooting
friend had made it.
"Yes! Missed the coyote I aimed for, but I got the cayuse of his off
pardner; see it?"
"Talk about luck!"
"That's all right: it takes blamed good shooting to miss that close in
this case. Look! It's slowed 'em up a bit, an' that's about all I hoped
to do. Bet they think I'm a real, shore-'nuff medicine-man. Now gimme
another cartridge."
"I will not; no use wasting lead at this range. We'll need all the
cartridges we got before we get out of this hole. You can't do nothing
without stopping--an' that takes time."
"Then I'll stop! The blazes with the time! Gimme another, d'ye hear?"
Mr. Cassidy heard, complied, and stopped beside his companion, who was
very intent upon the matter at hand.
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