It was a cold-blooded observation, hardly likely to encourage either. But the grin on Hank's face showed that he himself was not greatly concerned by the close approach of a second bullet which Hurley had fired. For Joe, one can only say that he watched the duel fascinated, fear for his own person lost in his interest. Once again he saw Hurley's rifle lifted, saw the smoke belch from the muzzle, and then heard—almost felt, one might say, without exaggeration—the passage of the bullet.
Hank chuckled. "This here lyin'-down position bothers him fine," he cried. "He aer got to drop his muzzle a whole heap before he hits us. But I'm not the one to give chances; I'm going to pick off that Hurley."
Up went his own rifle, for Hank leaned on one elbow. He took a long and careful aim and then pulled his trigger; but the result was not what he had anticipated. As he himself had said, shooting was extremely difficult under such circumstances, for the sleigh swayed and jolted horribly. But the bullet missed the ruffian at whom it was aimed only because there was another man in front of him. Of a sudden the driver of the pursuing sleigh dropped his whip and doubled up, his chin on his chest. Then he swayed a little, and, as if with a mighty effort, gathered all his strength and threw himself backward, pulling on the reins and bringing his team to a standstill. But it was his last action. He toppled over to the left and fell into the snow.
"Wrong man; sorry," Hank jerked out grimly. "Hurley'll have it next time. I'll wait a bit to get him closer."
The chase after that settled down a little, Hank holding his fire, while Hurley himself copied the example of the little hunter and spread himself out flat on his sleigh, his new driver also. But this was apparent, with a lighter load the enemy were getting nearer.
"Ef that's the case, we'll make a stop precious soon," said Hank. "What say, Joe?"
"I'm with you. We're three now to their two, and if we could face eight of them some little while ago, surely we could——"
His argument came to an abrupt ending at that moment, for a wide ditch with vertical banks carved out by nature crossed their path, and the snow hid it from view. It was more than likely that the snow had formed a species of bridge over this deep hollow; but, in any case, it broke down as the last of the team of dogs crossed, causing the front end of the sleigh to dip suddenly. The runners cannoned against the iron-hard banks, and in a twinkling sleigh and men went flying.
"Surely we could face those two," gasped Joe, as if continuing the sentence where circumstances had caused it to be so abruptly broken, and at the same time picking himself up from the bank of snow into which he had been thrown. "Here's fine cover. This ditch will hide us completely."
He threw himself down into the deep hollow at once, and found that he had quite a high bank before him, over which he had to lift his head to see the enemy. Hurley marked the occasion by firing at him, and his bullet swished past within an inch, causing Joe to duck suddenly. As for Hank, the sudden upset seemed to have caused him vast amusement, and certainly he wasn't in the smallest degree hurt, though, being at the rear of the sleigh, he had been thrown over the heads of his comrades and had come down sprawling amongst the dogs. He picked up himself and his weapon instantly and crept to Joe's side, still grinning widely, while Beaver Jack, undisturbed by the upset, his gravity of demeanour and his native dignity not in the least degree ruffled, coolly turned the sleigh the right way up, dragged it backward, and called hoarsely to the dogs to lie down.