“Get out of the way!” he yelled, but she did not hear him.
“The fool!” he snarled. “The fool! I’ll have to crease her.”
He lifted his rifle and deliberately shot her in the fleshy part of her arm near the shoulder. She whirled with the shock of it, and dropped.
XVIII
A BAD HOMBRE
The Indians ceased firing when the woman fell, and when Susie reached her mother Smith was helping her to her feet, and it was Smith who led her into the house and ripped her sleeve.
It was only a painful flesh-wound, but if the bullet had gone a few inches higher it would have shattered her shoulder. It was a shot which told Smith that he had lost none of his accuracy of aim.
He always carried a small roll of bandages in his hip-pocket, and with these he dressed the woman’s arm with surprising skill.