A puff of smoke flashed from his shoulder and streaked
away, the report of the shot lost in the gale. The fugitive's horse
reared and plunged into the deep water and with its rider was swept
rapidly towards the bend, the way they had come.
"That makes the fourth time I've missed that coyote!" angrily exclaimed
Hopalong as Red Connors joined him.
The other quickly raised his rifle and fired; and the horse, spilling
its rider out of the saddle, floated away tail first. The fugitive,
gripping his rifle, bobbed and whirled at the whim of the greedy water
as shots struck near him. Making a desperate effort, he staggered up the
bank and fell exhausted behind a boulder.
"Well, the coyote is afoot, anyhow," said Red, with great satisfaction.
"Yes; but how are we going to get to him?" asked Hopalong. "We can't get
the cayuses down here, an' we can't swim _that_ water without them. An'
if we could, he'd pot us easy."
"There's a way out of it somewhere," Red replied, disappearing over the
edge of the bluff to gamble with Fate.
"Hey! Come back here, you chump!" cried Hopalong, running forward.
"He'll get you, shore!"
"That's a chance I've got to take if I get him," was the reply.
A puff of smoke sailed from behind the boulder on the other bank and
Hopalong, kneeling for steadier aim, fired and then followed his friend.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193