The figure sat motionless, the right hand still raised in that menacing attitude.
“I am a man of my word,” said Brother Wright, rising to his feet and sighting his revolver steadily on the figure, while to Aunt Ruby he said, “Hold on tight, the horses will jump.”
A shot rang out on the still night air. The horses nearly jumped out of their skins with fright, and would certainly have run away, only the waggon was very heavy, and they decided to run in different directions. Hence they only jerked each other almost to the ground and then stood still amazed and trembling.
“Better make sure,” said Brother Wright, emptying another barrel at the figure which appeared to remain motionless in the uncertain foggy light. This time the horses came to the same conclusion and tried to turn round abruptly, but the attempt was expertly frustrated by Brother Wright and a cowhide whip of exceptional stinging power. Having thus reduced the horses to reason, he again turned his attention to the figure and saw with amazement that it still sat on horseback in the same spot.
“Well, I swan!” said Brother Wright, rubbing his eyes. “That beats all! It can’t be a mortal man, or he would have either dropped or returned fire. I guess I’ll drive on and do no more shooting this time.”
He stowed his pistol away in his pocket and drove on.
“Hadn’t you better keep the weapon handy?” suggested Aunt Ruby. “You might lay it down in my lap, if you like.”
“No, thank’ee,” replied Brother Wright. “I don’t generally give that sort of thing to women to hold for me.”
He pulled up at a little opening just near the ford, where the faint light of a crescent moon showed between the bare branches of the trees, and a sort of water-fog hung along the elder bushes by the banks.
“This is the spot he was standing,” remarked Wright, “the exact spot. I guess I’ll just look and see if there is any trail. The ground is soft about here and should show up pretty clear.”