Two seconds later, when Elmer dashed out of the shack, this was the astonishing spectacle he saw—the woman running away as best her bulk allowed, casting glances that were half frightened, half triumphant, behind her; while Mark was sitting up, rubbing a bump on his forehead ruefully, and Lil Artha had taken out a handkerchief to dab at his bleeding nose.
Still, nothing short of an earthquake could ever bottle up the flow of animal spirits that usually possessed the lanky one.
While he applied his handkerchief until it looked particularly gory, he was bent upon giving expression to his views.
"Wow! and again I say, wow! What cyclone was that we ran up against, Elmer? Did you let fly with that club of yours, or did the old shack just take a notion to fall over on us? It felt like I was being kicked by an army mule."
"Same here, Elmer," lamented Mark, as he succeeded in struggling to his feet.
"Well, it wasn't anything like that at all," declared Elmer, hastily; "and if you take the trouble to look yonder, before your eyes begin to close up, you'll see what hit you, running away like a scared hippopotamus."
"Glory be! Was it that dago woman?" yelled Lil Artha, now on his feet again.
"Yes, she burst the door open when she saw me, and as you chanced to be in the way, why, you got the benefit, that's all," Elmer remarked.
"Don't let her get away, fellows! Come on, who's afraid? We can cover three feet to her one. Let's make her a prisoner," shouted Lil Artha, whose usually even temper seemed to have been decidedly ruffled by his recent mishap.
So the three scouts left the shack and began to rush after the fleeing Italian woman.