“All right; I’m ready for them. Let’s finish our cartridges.”
“We will, Bob,” said Drew quite calmly, in spite of their extremity.
“What do you want?” said Dickenson. “You haven’t used all your cartridges?”
“No; only about half.”
“Then why did you hold out your hand?”
“Shake! In case,” said Drew laconically.
“Sha’n’t! I’m not going to look upon the business as having come to that pitch yet. Look out; we ought to see some of them soon.”
For shots were beginning to come about them to supplement those sent from across the river, but so ill directed that it was evident that their fresh assailants were guessing at their position below the perpendicular cliff-like bank.
“This won’t hurt us,” said Dickenson coolly.
“No; but some of them will be having their heads over the edge up there directly.”