Suddenly he turned and dived back. As he did so a bullet plunked against a rock right over his head.
“Gee-whiskers!” he sputtered. “That was a close call.”
No rifle or revolver report had sounded.
“They ain’t in the town, you bet!”
His apelike face had changed in a moment to an ashen white, showing terror. “It was from Bill Betts’ rifle,” he said.
Tim Benson was not a little startled.
“You saw Bill Betts out there?” he asked.
“I seen the swish of his umbreller; then that came at me.”
Sweat began to stream out of his face.
“Take a look out, and see! It was over by that big rock. But look out fer yerself.”