"In here, Surajah," Dick said, as he ran into the ruined hut.
Its roof was gone, its door hung loose on its hinges. It had but one window, a small one, looking up the valley. Dick laid his gun on the sill, which was nearly level with his shoulder.
"I must wait until they get pretty close," he said, "for I am panting so that I can't keep the barrel steady, even with this rest."
"I will kneel down outside," Surajah said.
"Mind, I will fire first, Surajah. Don't you fire until they are within twenty yards of you. By that time I shall have loaded again."
Dick had more time than he had expected, for as soon as their pursuers saw them enter the hut, they slackened their pace considerably. They were within about eighty yards, when Dick held his breath and standing, for a moment, immovable, took a steady aim and fired.
One of the men stumbled in his run, took a step or two forward, and then fell on his face. The others paused for a moment, and then, with a fierce yell, ran forward.
The moment he had fired, Dick dropped the stock of his gun on to the ground, snatched a cartridge from the bandolier, bit off the end, and emptied the powder into the barrel, gave the gun a shake, so as to be sure that it ran into the touch hole, and then rammed down the bullet. As he was in the act of doing so, Surajah fired, and a loud yell told that his shot had been successful.
Dick sprang to the door as Surajah entered. Two shots at the same instant rang out; but, at even so short a distance, the bullets went wide. Dick stepped out, and in turn fired. One of the two men fell; the other threw down his musket, and fled up the road.
"Thank goodness that is over," Dick exclaimed. "I thought they had no chance with us, here. Now the first thing is to get our wind again."