"No—it's only a scratch. But it was a close call."
"To cover!" came from Jack Wumble. "Quick, all of you!"
There was no need to call out, for all realized that they were in a dangerous position. It was Arnold Baxter who fired on Dick. Now Tom fired in return, and so true was his aim that the elder Baxter was hit in the left shoulder.
As soon as our friends were under cover they held a council of war.
"We ought to round 'em up," muttered Jack Wumble. "Don't you think so, Jim?"
"I am with ye on it," answered the old trapper. "We air five to three, although one o' the crowd is wounded."
"It's not much—only a scratch," said Dick, as he showed the wound. "Yes, let us surround them if we can. Anyway, it will be better if we get on the high ground above them. It's useless to think of staking off the claim while they are in the vicinity. They'll pull up our stakes, and shoot us in the bargain."
Their talk was interrupted by a crashing of the bushes, and looking up they saw that their enemies were beginning to roll rocks down toward them. One rock, weighing several tons, tumbled within two yards of them.
"All right, we'll try some o' that when we're on top," said Slim
Jim.
It had threatened rain, and now the drops began to come down, at first scatteringly, and then in a steady downpour. In this rain they moved off through the brush, leading their horses and following the old hunter, who knew more of the old Indian trails than did even Jack Wumble.