"You—you don't think it was one of the outfit down in the gulch, do you?" asked Batts.
"I reckon not. Still, it might have been. We'll get supper and I'll go down there and find out," decided Stillman with emphasis. "If I see any signs of a fellow who has been in a fire I'll plug him sure as my name's Stillman," raged the mountaineer.
"Look out, Joe!" warned Batts. "They may still be touchy about the pup and have a weather eye open."
"They won't catch me, now that I'm on my guard."
Stillman entered the cabin, slamming the door behind him.
"Somebody ought to keep watch," suggested Batts.
"You go out. I'll fix up the wreck. No; take your own gun. I want mine where I can get hold of it. I overshot, too. Did you get wise to the foxiness of those fellows? Run out on all fours so we'd shoot over them. Foxy, foxy! That wasn't no tenderfoot trick."
Batts picked up his rifle and started for the door.
"Skip!" whispered Tad. "Run for it, but don't make a sound unless you want to stop a bullet."
Ned Rector needed no urging. By the time Batts had reached the threshold of the door the boys were well down the path. Even then the keen-eared mountaineer heard them, and sent a bullet in their direction, but the bullet sailed far above the heads of the boys. Tad changed his course somewhat, as the fellow had their range a little too closely to suit young Butler.