He was so near the side of the inclosure that he had to run but a few steps when he made a leap which lifted him several feet above the obstruction, and it was this temporary elevation which gave the ranger the chance he was seeking. At the moment the figure was at the highest point of the arch, with his feet gathered beneath him, the ranger brought his gun to his shoulder and let fly.
A flash, a resounding report, a rasping shriek that resounded through the woods, and the Shawanoe sprawled forward on his face, with his hands clutching the leaves and dirt, and then all was still.
"That 'ere varmint ought to have knowed that 'cause a man happens to git bit by a rattler and takes an over-dose of antidote, it ain't no reason for stubbin' your toe agin him, and thinkin' he's forgot how to shoot off a gun."
"You managed that purty well, Jim," quietly remarked Weber Hastings, appearing that moment at his elbow. "Glad to see you don't forget to reload as quick as you kin."
"I larned that long ago; wonder if there are any more of the varmints 'bout."
"If there is, they'll be a little more keerful, but there's no saying what'll be the next thing—sh!"
Through the arches of the forest stole the soft, tremulous notes of a night bird—so faintly heard that even the trained ears of the ranger could do no more than guess the distance.
"That's Kenton," he remarked, in a guarded voice; "I'm powerful glad of it, for now something will be done."