"Good shot," he said aloud as the stone hit the stalk. "I wonder if I could do it again."
He stooped down and picked up another stone, taking a good look backward from his stooping position. There was not a movement to indicate the presence of a living thing.
"This is getting on my nerves," the boy mused as he picked up several small stones and again walked forward. "I don't mind being followed by a white man, but I'm a whole lot leary of these greasers. They're bad enough when they're friendly."
Then aloud, as he threw a couple of stones: "I'll never get anywhere if I don't make better time than this. I'll just sprint a few."
Suiting the action to the word, he started on a run.
Almost immediately he was aware of a soft pat-pat in his rear. He had heard a similar sound in the wilds of Wyoming and he recognized it at once.
It was the footfall of a four-legged animal.
"So!" he ejaculated. "I wonder what it is. If there were wolves down here I would say it was a wolf, but I don't believe there are." Then a minute later, "Well, whatever it is, I'm going to find out."
He whipped out his automatic and turned suddenly.
As before, not a single living thing was in sight, only in the grass a movement as before.