The bootless one looked furtively at the demijohn, still like a wary cur who snatches at and bolts with a stray bone. Then the pair set off at a jog trot after the rest.
"I wonder," said Sam, "if that was good whisky?"
Sandy looked at him reproachfully. "Sody-Water," he said, "I'm plumb disappointed in you an' yore cravin'. Smell it an' see."
His gun exploded. The man with the demijohn gave a curious hop, skip and jump. The demijohn jerked in his hand but seemed intact. The bullet, smashing through the wickerwork, had shattered the container but the tough willow twigs preserved the shape. Two more shots and there was a tinkle of broken glass. The last bullet had clipped the neck. It was too close shooting for the sockless one and the whisky was dripping fast through the weave, bringing a reek of crude liquor to Sam's twitching nostrils. The claim-jumper dropped what was left of his burden and went hopping on, acquiring stone bruises with every leap.
"Scattered like a bunch of coyotes," said Sam.
"Sure did," agreed Sandy. "Minute they stahted talkin', 'stead of shootin', I knew they was ready to stampede. They'll beat it to Plimsoll an' we'll see jest how much sand he's got in his craw."
"Not enough to keep him from skiddin' on a downgrade," said Mormon. "Sandy, that's cruelty to animals, sendin' that hombre off 'thout his boots after you took away his licker. I've got tender feet myse'f as well as a soft heart. Help me with this tent a minute, Sam."
Together they raised the fallen canvas enough to discover the boots, which Mormon hurled down-hill after the limping one, who was far in the rear of his companions. He turned at Mormon's shout and he stopped, fearful at the act of kindness, crawled up the slope and retrieved his footwear, pulled them on and scurried off.
A distant shout reached them from the other side of the gulch. By position, rather than actual recognition, Sandy guessed the figure that of Westlake. The firing must have sounded only a little louder than cork poppings, but evidently the engineer had sized up the retreating men and the collapsed tent. Sandy waved to him in assurance that all was well and the other waved back in understanding.
"Think Plim'll show?" asked Sam.