“Missed!” he muttered, then turning, began making his way back.
Sitting in a sheltered spot at the back of a great rock that overlooked the narrow gorge, Faye Duncan, as she waited and watched, thought of many things, of her grandfather and Johnny Longbow, of Timmie and his mysterious green gold, of her home and her own cozy room there. Her heart warmed at this last thought, but chilled again as she looked up at the smoking crest which they must cross.
“Will we make it? Can we do it? Well—”
Of a sudden she sprang to her feet. There had come to her alert ears a sound. It seemed close at hand.
“The goat!” Seizing her bow, she nocked a broadhead and waited.
“Yes, there. There.” Her hand trembled. The great horned creature was making straight for her.
Not a hundred yards away, he was coming straight on.
“Has he seen me? Would a wild goat charge his enemy?” She did not know. Her heart stood still.
“Must be sure of my shot,” she told herself.
Bracing herself, she waited. Now he was eighty yards away, now sixty, now forty, and now—now—