Bart Hodge was still beating about for the man who had so cleverly vanished in the gloom. There was a sudden report, as fire belched from a tangled thicket, and a bullet grazed Bart’s cheek.
Hodge dropped, knowing now the other man had sought shelter, and waited till he felt that he could bring one of the youths down with a sure shot. Evidently the man believed he had succeeded, for he rose to his feet, so that Bart obtained a glimpse of him.
In his impatient rage, Hodge did not wait for the fellow to advance, but he took a quick aim and fired immediately. Down went the man.
“Soaked him!” said Bart grimly. “He brought it on himself.”
Then he lifted himself to his feet. It was Bart’s turn to meet with surprise, for again from the thicket came a flash of fire, and this time Hodge felt something burn and sting in his shoulder.
With a shout of fury, Hodge leaped straight toward the thicket, into which he fearlessly plunged, reckless of his life.
But when he reached the spot where he believed the enemy must be, he found no one there. The desperado had slipped away as Hodge came leaping toward the spot, being aided to escape by the deepening darkness.
Finding the man was not there, the conviction came on Hodge that he was crouching near, waiting to obtain another shot, which he would take care to make sure. Then the instinct of self-preservation overcame Bart’s great fury, and he crouched close to the ground, holding his revolver ready, while he peered about in the gloom and listened.
Not far away the battle between Frank and the giant ruffian was still raging fiercely.
With every sense on the alert, Bart squatted there, ready to shoot or spring. His nerves were tingling, but he did his best to be steady and cool. An encounter of this sort, however, was something to unsteady the nerves of almost any man, and it was not at all strange that Bart found himself shaking somewhat as he remained motionless and waiting.