“Some critter shore is tryin’ to shoot up this outfit,” growled Ike Fairweather.
CHAPTER VII
A LIVELY NIGHT IN CAMP
“ARE you hit, Lieutenant?” questioned Grace, stepping over to Hippy.
“Yes, on my right thumb. Don’t get excited, Nora,” begged Hippy as his wife ran to him. “The bullet merely broke the skin.”
“This is what comes of your nonsense, Hippy Wingate,” rebuked Nora. “It was the shiny tin plate that did it.”
Grace nodded.
“Shall I pour water on the coals?” asked Ike, his voice trembling with anger.
“Not now, Mr. Fairweather. We will first see what develops,” replied Grace.
“What do you reckon on doin’ ’bout this shootin’, Miss?” persisted the driver.