“You’ll stay right where you are, sonny, till we’re done with you,” he snarled. “You understand? You’re a-goin’ to git hurt ef ye gits in our way any! See?”
The Boy was now in a white rage; but he kept his wits cool and his eyes watchful. He realized at this moment that he was in great danger; but, his mettle being sound, this only made him the more resolute.
“All right. You’ve decided!” he said slowly. “We’ll see what the boys will have to say about it.”
As he spoke he made a movement as if to turn, but without taking his eyes from the enemy. The movement just served to swing his little Winchester into a readier position.
At his first move the man with the axe took a step forward, and swung up his axe with a peculiar 119 gesture which the Boy understood. He had seen the woodsmen throw their axes. He knew well their quickness and their deadly precision. But quickness and precision with the little Winchester were his own especial pride,––and, after all, he had not turned any further than was just right for a good shot. Even as the axe was on the verge of leaving the poacher’s hand, the rifle cracked sharply. The poacher yelled a curse, and his arm dropped. The axe flew wide, landing nowhere near its aim. On the instant both the half-breeds turned, and raced for their rifles on the shore.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot you both!” shouted the Boy, now with embarrassment added to his wrath. In their wild fury at being so balked by a boy, both men trusted to his missing his aim––or to the hope that his gun was not a repeater. They ignored his command, and rushed on. The Boy was just going to shoot again, aiming at their legs; when, to his amazement and inconceivable relief, out from behind the tree where the poachers’ rifles leaned, came Jabe.
Snatching up one of the guns, he echoed the Boy’s command.
“Stop right there!” he ordered curtly. “An’ 120 up with your hands, too! Mebbe youse kin fling a knife slick ez ye kin an axe.”
The half-breeds stood like stones. One held up both hands; but the other only held up his left, his right being helpless. They knew there was nothing to say. They were fairly caught. They were poaching. The tall lumberman had seen the axe flung. Their case was a black one; and any attempt to explain could do no less than make it worse. They did not even dare to look at each other, but kept their narrow, beady eyes fixed on Jabe’s face.
The Boy came swiftly to Jabe’s side.