There, in the screen of thick darkness, the scout and his two companions awaited further developments.
If Lawless and his men were back of that rifle-shot, they were slow in following up the attack. The one shot was all that was fired, and ominous silence followed it. Not a sound was heard by the scout and his friends aside from the heavy breathing of their horses.
“Thet was blame’ sudden,” muttered Hank Tenny, “an’ blame’ near bein’ a bull’s-eye, too. I felt ther wind o’ thet bullet, an’ ther way it snatched off my head-gear made it look as though it wanted ter take my head with it.”
“A miss is as good as a mile, Hank,” said the scout, in a low tone.
While he spoke, his eyes were searching the darkness in the direction from which the shot had come.
“I ain’t grumblin’ none,” continued Tenny.
“The bullet came from the top of the wall,” put in Dell.
“Yes; the men, whoever they may be, are up there.”
“’Course they’re the gang we’re arter,” remarked Tenny, “but they’re showin’ their hands consider’ble this side o’ the Bluff. I reckon,” he finished grimly, “thet ye picked the likeliest fork, Buffler Bill, when ye come ter ther left. We’ve cut out this bunch o’ trouble for our own.”
“Why don’t they follow up the surprise?” queried Dell restively. “A surprise like that doesn’t amount to much unless it is followed up—and followed up quick.”