"Eleven," thought Matt.
Then he gave a loud cry and allowed the cap to waver back and forth.
Bang!
"Twelve!" exulted Matt. "Now, if he hasn't any more cartridges, I'll be safe."
Matt had allowed the cap to drop at the last shot. Outside he could hear a tramp of running feet.
"I told the cub," came the voice of Siwash. "He ought to've knowed better than ter——"
Siwash Charley's head was thrust in at the opening, rimmed with its jagged points of glass. The scoundrel's words died on his lips, for his eyes were blinking into the muzzle of the rifle.
"Clear out, Siwash!" said Matt calmly. "I don't like guns, and I don't like shooting, but I dislike your society more than either one. Go away from here, and go quick."
What Siwash said Matt could not hear, but he vanished from the window as if by magic.
There was no more firing. In order to test his theory regarding Siwash Charley's ammunition, Matt showed himself boldly at the broken window.