“Bullets are coming from somewhere, that is certain,” answered Hippy, raising his head from the ground on which he, as well as his companions, had thrown themselves at the first shot.
Following the last two shots, the reports of rifles were distinctly heard by each member of the party, and each pair of eyes was straining to locate the source of the shooting.
“Oh, it must be a mistake,” cried Emma.
“That doesn’t help us any,” replied Tom Gray. “But I do wish we had our rifles.”
“Don’t wolly till to-mollow,” advised Stacy.
Hippy raised himself to a sitting position and waved his handkerchief.
“Woo, woo, woo!—Bang!”
Hippy threw himself over backwards, his feet kicking up into the air, his attitude being so funny that the Overlanders laughed heartily. Their laughter, however, quickly subsided, when they recalled that the last shot had passed very close to them.
Tom Gray had been listening to the whistle of the bullets and to the reports that followed, and the result of his listening and looking was the conclusion that the shooters were getting the range, and that, undoubtedly, smokeless powder was being used.
“I don’t care whether they see me or not,” exclaimed Hippy, getting to his feet, but no sooner had he done so than a bullet whistled so close to him that, as he declared later, he felt the hot breath of it on his cheek.