Half-Mile has got his boots and vest off and is standing a little ways from Yuma, who is arguing with a gun in his hand.
“I don’t sabe this play,” says Magpie, wondering-like. “Appears to be a one-sided proposition with Half-Mile on the weak end, Ike.”
Just then we sees Half-Mile make a break for liberty, and Yuma’s gun whangs out loud and clear. If he hit Half-Mile he didn’t get him in a vital place, ’cause he sure is hitting the high spots.
Magpie unhooks with his gun and I sees Yuma’s hat spin off his head. By the time I gets into action Yuma is hived up behind a tree, and his first shot cuts three shells out of my belt. Magpie was a danged fool to miss his first shot, ’cause cover is mighty scarce on the side of that hill.
“Danged assassin!” yelps Magpie and spins lead past that tree so fast that Yuma don’t dare to look out. “Shoot a unarmed man, will you?” And then his gun clicks on a empty shell.
“Give him ——, Ike!” yelps Magpie, but I wasn’t giving anything away right then. I was trying to get my head down behind a rock which only stuck three inches out of the ground.
Yuma must ’a’ got excited, ’cause his shots were all going high, and as soon as he shoots six times I breathes a sigh of relief. Just then a hunk of lead comes from another direction and knocks the plug of tobacco out of my hip pocket.
Then I hears Yuma yell:
“Get above ’em, Half-Mile! They need to be teached a lesson.”
“Half-Mile, are you all right?” yelps Magpie.