He shook so with impatience as to make the bushes rattle.
“Steady,” whispered Hal.
Ramirez, by a tremendous effort at patience, got a better grip on himself.
Nearer, still nearer, came the six troopers and their captives.
Hal himself found it hard to restrain the temptation to fire, though he held himself in check to the last.
But at last the whispered word came: “Fire!”
Two jets of flame shot out from the bushes; two troopers reeled from saddle and fell.
Crack! crack! Two more were down.
Crack! crack! A fifth trooper fell, all within the space of five seconds.
Ramirez, firing with the deadly aim of hatred, had brought down all three of his men, but Hal missed at the third shot.