Instantly Harry was another creature. Her languor vanished; she drew up, keen and alert; her eyes moved back and forth along the line of willow bushes that screened the stream. For half a minute she watched, scarcely breathing; the immense silence was broken only by the far, faint bell note of a mourning dove. Had she only imagined that other sound? No. There it was again.
Suddenly two figures crept into view, moving cautiously, with shotguns held ready. She put two fingers in her mouth, drew a deep breath, and then a screaming whistle split the evening calm.
The sportsmen heard it. Harry saw them stop and look her way; but, seeing only a girl, they evidently felt safe, for they started forward again, with guns cocked, and when Harry whistled the second time they paid no attention.
"I guess I know what'll make you go!" cried the girl, and she ran into the house. She came out again with the big .32 rifle under her arm and started down the path.
She had gone scarcely a hundred feet when she saw a flock of sage hens rise. At the same instant there was a rattle of shots, and two birds fell. Harry threw the rifle to her shoulder, aimed high and fired. Instantly one of the men jumped back, shook his fist toward her and shouted. She did not catch the words, but it made no difference, anyhow. He knew he had no business inside the fence, for there was a plainly printed sign warning hunters off. She moved forward slowly, expecting to see the sportsmen get over the fence; but just then another covey of birds rose, and simultaneously both men fired.
That was too much. Harry raised the rifle and fired six deliberate shots. She aimed high over the heads and well to either side of the trespassers, so that there was no chance of hitting them. Nevertheless, when an automobile rolled out from the willows and she saw how easily she might have hit the driver, she felt a thrill of horror.
She stood watching while, the men made a run for the car, scrambled aboard and went swinging out of sight up the road. Then slowly she turned back home. Her knees felt shaky; she drew a long, unsteady breath and, to her surprise, had to sit down on the ground for a moment.
When Rob got home with the mower he brought a general acceptance of the invitation to the Fourth of July dinner. "They fell for it as if they'd been expecting it any time in the last three years," he reported.
"It's just as well, then, that I planned to have Isita come down and help me," Harry answered. She had decided to say nothing about shooting at the hunters. She had realized by this time what a terrible risk she had taken, and she knew it would worry Rob to think that she had been so reckless.
"What on earth do you want Biane's girl here for?" he asked. "I should think Mrs. Robinson could help you out."