He saw me, with the lever back of the stone, and let out a frightened squeak. His face got as white as a goose’s back, and he hung there to a shrub, too scared to move.
Bill was coming down at me, but he was too far away to do any good. I turned around to him and called: “Mister Bill, you stop right where you are. If you come another step I’ll heave this boulder down onto Batten and squash him. Don’t come another step.”
Bill stopped and looked, and when he saw just how things were he turned kind of green.
“Go on back!” I says. “Git a move on!”
He didn’t say a word, but just wheeled around and did as I told him.
“Now,” I says to Batten, “you git, too. I won’t heave it if you mosey along.”
He didn’t stop to argue, but rolled over and half slid, half fell down the hill. I never would have pushed over that stone. I couldn’t have done it; but, then, Batten and Bill didn’t know.
So far the siege had been going our way, but nobody had come to relieve us, and we didn’t know when they would. I’d have given my new jack-knife to have heard Uncle Ike Bond hollering back in the road.
CHAPTER XIX
“They won’t try that again,” I said.