But little Vada saved the situation. She jumped to her feet, dragging Jamie with her. Her dark eyes were shining, and her round little cheeks were scarlet with excitement.
“It wasn’t a duck, nor a pigeon, nor nothin’ but a parrot,” she declared. “Momma told us. He sent out a parrot; an’ it flew, an’ flew, an’ flew. An’ then it come back to the ark, carryin’ a tree in its beak. An’ then Nore knew there wasn’t no more rain, nor nothing, an’ they turned his wife into a pillow o’ salt ’cos she’d made him eat the apple. An’, pop-pa, tell us another.”
“’Ess, a nudder,” cried Jamie, his chubby fat legs wabbling under him as he danced about––“a nudder––a nudder––a nud––”
But his lisping request was never completed, for, without a word of warning, Wild Bill suddenly leapt from his seat, and, with a wave of his arm, swept the two children sprawling into their father’s lap, while he charged across the clearing. Just for a fraction of a second he paused as he closed on the bush he had so long contemplated, and his friends heard his voice in a furious oath.
“You son of a––!” he roared; and simultaneously there was a flash and a sharp report from his gun––another, and yet another. Then he vanished into the bush, his smoking revolver still in his hand ready for use, followed, with no less speed, by Toby and Sandy Joyce.
For a moment Scipio stared; but Sunny Oak seemed to grasp something of the situation. He flung himself before the two children, his right hand gripping a revolver which he always carried concealed amongst his rags. And at the same moment the gambler’s voice came back to him.
“Huyk them kids right back to the store, an’ kep ’em there!” it cried. And instantly the indolent loafer, with a movement almost electrical in its swiftness, seized Vada in his arms and dashed off up the hill, followed by the little father, bearing the screaming Jamie in his.
Inside the bush the three men searched, with eyes and ears alert in the fashion of furious terriers. The branches and inner leaves were spattered with blood, showing that the gambler’s shots had taken some effect. The ground, too, was covered with footprints.
With a rush Bill set off trailing the latter, and so soft was the ground that he had little or no difficulty in the matter. The trail took them along the creek bank, and here and there a splash of blood warned them that their quarry was severely wounded.
But, even so, they were doomed to disappointment. Thirty yards from the clearing they came to a spot where the moist soil was well beaten with horse’s hoofs, and here the human footprints ended. All three men stared out down the creek. And then it was that another furious oath escaped the gambler’s lips, as he beheld a racing horseman making good his escape, more than a hundred yards below them.