The eyes of the scout had singled out another enemy, and another bullet had sped forth on its deadly mission.
But an exclamation of chagrin fell from his lips a moment after.
“I believe I’ve missed him. What’s the matter with you, Susannah? But like’s not the fault’s in me. He was some ways off and the moonbeams danced so that I wa’n’t over sure of my aim. But I’ll have him yet. It won’t do to let him bring the rest of ’em here. Keep on arter the rest of ’em, youngster. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Hastily reloading his rifle he sprung in the direction of the spot where he had seen the savage, leaving Ned standing in his tracks putting another charge into his rifle.
When he neared the spot where the savage had stood, he found that it was untenanted.
But a glance upon the earth told him that his shot had not been so poor a one as he had thought.
The leaves were covered with blood, telling that he had wounded him.
As he saw this he felt better in his mind.
It was seldom he missed an object he took aim upon, and he was fearful he was losing his art.
“He bleeds like a stuck bison,” he muttered, to himself. “He can’t have gone a great ways. I’ll make sure of him anyway.”