There had been no answer to Stacy's signal on the horn, nor had Tad looked for any. He would have been surprised had there been, knowing, as did the stranger, that Billy Lilly and his party were miles away from that particular spot.
"Come back here!" ordered the man.
"I will when I get the deer," answered Butler.
The stranger, hot with anger, flung up his revolver and pulled the trigger. There followed a sharp report and Tad's hat dropped on the ground in front of him.
It was then that Tad Butler showed his cool nerve. Without looking back he stooped, and, picking up his sombrero, placed it on his head and started on. For the moment the shooter was too amazed to do more than stare. His face was working nervously. Whether he had intended to shoot the boy or not, Tad did not know, but he was inclined to think not.
Once more the fellow raised his weapon.
"Oh, by—the—way!" drawled Chunky.
The man turned sharply toward Stacy. He found himself looking into the muzzle of the fat boy's rifle.