“He’s mine, I tell you!” said Bucks.
“It was my bullet that did it!” said the man in the tree with equal emphasis.
“I guess it was both of you,” put in Whitestone. “You fired so close together I heard only one shot, but I reckon both bullets counted.”
This seemed to pacify them. I looked over the little ridge of earth before us, and saw a fourth red-clad body lying on the greensward near the river. It was as still as the others.
“He made a dash for the water,” said Whitestone, who caught my eye, “but the lead overtook him before he was halfway.”
The two men put aside their cards, business being resumed; but after this attempt we lay idle a long time. Bucks, who had an infernal zeal, never took his eyes off the greensward save to look at the priming of his gun.
“I could hit the mark at least twenty yards farther than that,” he said to me confidently.
Noon came, and I hoped I would be relieved of this duty, but it was not so. It seemed that it would be an all-day task. The men took some bread and cold meat from their pouches and we ate. When the last crumb fell, a man appeared at the edge of the greensward and held up his hands. Bucks’s finger was already on the trigger of his gun, but I made him stop. The man’s gesture meant something, and, moreover, I saw that he was unarmed. I called also to the Virginian in the tree to hold his fire.
I thought I knew the meaning of the pantomime. I took my rifle and turned the muzzle of it to the earth so conspicuously that the Englishman, who was holding up his hands, could not fail to see. When he saw, he advanced boldly, and laying hold of one of the bodies dragged it away. He returned for a second, and a third, and then a fourth, and when he had taken the last he did not come back again.
“That’s a good job well done!” I said with much relief when the last of the fallen men had been taken away. It was much pleasanter to look at the greensward now, since there was no red spot upon it. I said to Whitestone that I thought the English would not make the trial again.