"Si, Señor," came the surly response, and the shifty black eyes glared for a moment at the boy.
"Well, beat it--pronto," ordered Dick, and with the words he gave the man a push in the right direction, while both boys, as if performing a military drill, simultaneously aided him with a persuading kick.
"Just to help you along a bit," called Henry and then he turned to Dick. "Shake, Dick; that was a job well and nobly done."
As he spoke five bullets whistled past them, one dusting the ground at their feet and ricochetting with a shrill "Z-z-z-i-i-n-n-g."
Instantly the startled boys dropped to the grass beside the trail and, keeping under cover until a fold in the ground effectually protected them, they ran for the boat landing.
"Wonder why he didn't use that shooting iron before?" questioned Dick, looking back over the trail.
"Reckon he was too plumb scared to remember he owned a gun," said Henry, still beaming with joy over the adventure. "Do you believe he'll take any more pot shots at us?"
"No, we are out of pistol range down here, and he can't come down the hill without being seen. Those shots were too close for comfort to suit me, and yet I hated to have to run away as we did. Still it would have been worse than foolhardy to tempt Fortune by hanging around up there with that rascal in hiding. How do you like being under fire?"
"Can't say I've any hankering for it, but it didn't scare me as I thought it would," said Henry.
The men from Flamingo Bay were now coming over the brow of the hill and soon reached the boat. They had not seen the native on the other side of the hill, but all had heard the five shots. The boys did not enlighten them as to the cause, having decided to report the whole matter to First Sergeant Douglass on their return to the Denver.