But, as yet, there were only straws, showing which way the evil wind was blowing.
"Could it have been a chance shot?" asked Dick, raising himself a little to get a better look.
"That bullet was aimed straight for the bottle, over our heads," declared Bud. "It was no chance shot."
"One of ours couldn't have glanced, could it?" Dick wanted to know.
"Surely not!" affirmed Bud. "Why, no one had shot for some time.
I'd just put the new bottle on the stick for you."
"Yes, and I was just going to shoot, when somebody took the bullet out of my gun, so to speak," went on Dick, grimly jesting.
"Do you think they were shooting at—us?" asked Nort, hesitatingly.
Bud did not answer for the moment, and when he did it was to say, as he suddenly arose:
"If they did I'm going to give 'em another chance. And I'm going to do some shooting on my own account!" He had his gun in his hand, for he had so held it since he had shattered the first bottle, and now it was grasped in readiness for instant action.
"We're with you!" cried Nort and Dick, as they emerged from their recumbent positions in the grass, and hastened to the side of their cousin.