"That fellow hurt you, Rex," exclaimed the big chap.
"Maybe I didn't hurt him!" returned the other lightly. "Drop over this bank and get under cover. The hounds will scent the trail in a minute."
Midkiff did not like to run. That wasn't his way when he got into a row. But Rex was chuckling in spite of the pain he suffered.
"I believe we could have licked 'em if we had stayed," growled the big fellow.
"Doubtless, Jawn. You could go out and slay a host of the Philistines with a jawbone——"
"The knuckle bones are good enough for me," put in his friend, still disgruntled. "You always have all the luck, Rex. You're the only one who struck a blow."
"How about you hammering on that canvas?" demanded Kingdon.
"With your fist, I mean."
"True. And I'm not so happy over that," muttered the other.
They had scrambled down upon a narrow strip of beach under the high bank. This was not the spot where they had landed, as Kingdon well knew.