the cowardly coyote who put a match to my haystack yonder?”
“I’d like nothing better, Uncle!” cried the boy, aroused by all these happenings, and with his mind made up that, given a chance, he, would surely do some sort of bodily injury to the treacherous hound; for of all things the boy detested, a fellow who could turn on the hand that fed him and strike his benefactor in the back, was the worst.
“Donald, you stick it out here, and perhaps you’ll get your chance sooner than we may!” called the ex-manager over his shoulder, as he ran hastily away, heading so as to switch around to the other side of the burning hay; which Adrian understood to mean that he anticipated discovering the firemaker starting operations in connection with one of the other high stacks.
Already the flames were leaping wildly upward, and beginning to roar. At least they served as a huge torch, by means of which the defenders of the corrals would be able to cover quite a fair stretch of territory with their eyes, and detect the approach of any suspicious body of raiders, upon whom they could open fire without compunction, once they were sure it could not be the sheriff’s posse.
As he ran Adrian was on the lookout for any kind of slinking figure that might be discovered near the haystacks, perhaps with a flaming torch
in hand; though a simple match was really all that would be needed to start another of those conflagrations, so dry was the hay.
If he had the good luck to set eyes on such an object he believed that nothing would hold him back from sending a bullet at the incendiary; for by now the boy had become indignant at the way these Walkers were trying to rule or ruin the entire country, and would welcome a chance to let one of the brood know that he did not mean to stand their ways of doing things.
“You head toward that one on the right!” said Mr. Comstock, hastily, as the two of them paused, the better to look around, and decide on what had better be done in order to stop this work of wanton destruction.
This of course meant that they should separate; and turning sharply aside Adrian bent low, and ran toward the stack to which he had been directed.
As he did so he heard the positive report of a pistol, and actually felt the wind caused by the passage of a bullet, so close did it come to his left arm. That told him there was an enemy hiding behind the haystack to which he had been sent by his uncle; and seeing him coming with such evident hostile intent, the fellow had fired. Perhaps he had missed hitting the crouching boy because Adrian kept dodging to the right and to the left as he had seen an old Indian-fighter do once upon