Hippy Wingate tried a shot and scored a hit the first time. The men in the dugout showed indications of panic.
“Let ’em have it hard,” urged Tom, whereupon both men began shooting, but the shooting was not confined to their own rifles. From somewhere on the mountain-side other rifles spoke, and bullets spattered against the rocks that stood out white in the moonlight, hard by the cave.
“They’ve located us!” cried Tom Gray. “Stacy, come out here, but creep out,” he ordered.
The fat boy came wriggling out, rifle in hand.
“See if you can find the fellows who are shooting at us; then stir them up,” directed Tom.
A few moments later, Chunky’s rifle spoke. In the meantime Tom and Hippy had been shooting at the boat, taking their time, aiming with deliberation, until finally the fire became too hot for the men in the dugout, and they paddled rapidly shoreward to the other side of the lake. Soon after their arrival there they began to shoot at the cave-mouth. Hippy and Tom then turned their rifles in that direction, but with what result they were unable to determine.
Stacy shot slowly and steadily, without apparent nervousness, and the two men began to feel respect for the irrepressible Chunky. After a time the fire on both sides died down and silence settled over the scene. Finally, Grace suggested that she and Elfreda relieve the men of their watch, which, after reflection, was agreed to. After a vigil of some hours Grace called for Tom and pointed towards the lake, that was shining in the moonlight.
“Is not something moving out there?” she questioned.
“Yes. It is those scoundrels after the chests again. Call Hippy!”
After watching the shadowy shape of the dugout for some moments the two Overland men again opened fire, and once more the dugout was hurriedly paddled ashore.