“Expect I’d better take a pasear an’ see where Mr. Ute’s at,” Dud said. “He’s liable to drap in onexpected while we’re not lookin’—several of him, huntin’ for souvenirs in the scalp line for to decorate his belt with.”
From the little opening he crept into the thicket of saplings and disappeared. Bob waited beside the delirious man. His nerves were keyed to a high tension. For all he knew the beadlike eyes of four or five sharpshooters might be peering at him from the jungle.
The sound of a shot startled him. It came from the direction in which Dud had gone. Had he been killed? Or wounded? Bob could not remain longer where he was. He too crept into the willows, following as well as he could the path of Hollister.
There came to him presently the faint crackle of twigs. Some one or something was moving in the bosk. He lay still, heart thumping violently. The sound ceased, began again.
Bob’s trembling hand held a revolver pointed in the direction of the snapping branches. The willows moved, opened up, and a blond, curly head appeared.
Bob’s breath was expelled in a long sigh of relief. “Wow! I’m glad to see you. Heard that shot an’ thought maybe they’d got you.”
“Not so you can notice it,” Dud replied cheerfully. “But they’re all round us. I took a crack at one inquisitive buck who had notions of collectin’ me. He ce’tainly hit the dust sudden as he vamosed.”
“What’ll we do?”
“I found a kinda buffalo wallow in the willows. We’ll move in on a lease an’ sit tight till Harshaw an’ the boys show up.”
They carried and dragged Houck through the thicket to the saucer-shaped opening Hollister had discovered. The edges of this rose somewhat above the surrounding ground. Using their spurs to dig with, the cowpunchers deepened the hollow and packed the loose dirt around the rim in order to heighten the rampart.