The reports of the two rifles rang out as one, and a couple of the fearsome elk-hunters rolled over upon the carcase of their quarry, the rest diving like a flash to cover behind it.
“I guess we’ll have to wipe them out now,” said the Yankee grimly, “or they’ll bring a hull hornet’s nest about our ears in half an hour.”
A spear flashed up from behind the carcase as he spoke, and, missing Seymour by a hair’s-breadth, shivered itself to fragments against the boulder.
“A close call,” remarked Silas.
“Close indeed,” Seymour returned. “They’ll have one of us next time, sure as fate, if we remain here. Let us move round in opposite directions, and outflank them. Down!” he hissed suddenly, pushing Haverly violently to one side, as a second missile hummed towards them.
His quick action saved the American, who would undoubtedly have been transfixed by the great weapon but for that.
An instant later a hideous head poked up from behind the dead elk.
Seymour let drive with a jerk, but, owing to the uncertain light, missed, his shot striking a monstrous puff-ball growing within a few feet of the spot whereon the carcase lay.
A vivid sheet of flame leapt from the fungus, followed by a terrible explosion, the shock of which hurled Silas and the baronet violently to the ground.