The discharge of Jim's weapon, thus showing there were at least two confronting him, had taught a salutary lesson, and he now appeared eager to find a better shelter.
Jet understood what the man wished to do and determined to prevent it if possible.
Sam, in his present position, did not dare show himself long enough to take aim, and while he remained behind this particular tree there was little danger he could do very serious damage.
By this time Jet's wound had begun to make itself felt.
The pain had become great, and the blood was yet flowing freely.
Once he thought he would creep over to Jim that the latter might fasten a ligature above the aperture, thus checking the blood, but in order to do so it would have been necessary to expose himself to a certain extent, and also give Sam the desired opportunity to gain a better shelter.
"I don't see any way out of the scrape," he said to himself, "for there's no chance anybody will come this way, and he's bound to get the best of us after a time, because I can't hold out a great while longer if I keep on growing weak; but anything is better than surrendering willingly."
Therefore he remained where he was, firing on the slightest chance of hitting the mark, and using the revolver when the gun was empty.
The only ray of hope which Jet could see in the entire business was the fact that Sam might not have a full supply of cartridges.
He no longer shot at random, reserving his fire as if it was necessary to make every shot count, but this might mean nothing more than a desire to tire the others out.