“What are you goin’ to do?” asked Dave from behind.
Tom laid down behind the drifted log, and sighted the Winchester along the track.
“Keep down be’ind me,” he said excitedly, “and lay close!”
“Suppose you kill ’im, we might get ’ung,” ventured Dave.
“I don’t care.” replied Tom. “I’ll ’ang for ’im, the blood-thirsty hound. ’E’d a’ killed us afore ’e left the island most likely.”
“Are you goin’ to call on him to surrender first?”
“Not a call! ’E’s an outlaw. They can’t touch you for shootin’ outlaws.”
“Suppose you miss ’im.” whimpered Dave.
“I ain’t goin’ to miss ’im,” replied Tom, grimly.
“If you do he’ll kill us both.”