"Quick! We'll catch him!"
But catch him nor see him again they did not.
Ten minutes later while working in a wide open stretch of forest, they
were brought to a stand by the report of a rifle. At the same instant
the shock of a bullet threw a shower of dead pine needles and humus over
Elliott. Another and another followed, until six had thudded into the
soft earth at the young man's feet. He stood quite motionless, and
though he went a little pale, his coolness did not desert him. After the
sixth shot silence fell abruptly. Elliott stood still for some moments,
then moved forward a single step.
"Guess the show's over," he remarked with a curt laugh. He stooped to
examine the excavation the bullets had made. "Quaint cuss," he remarked
a trifle bitterly. "Just wanted to show me how easy it would be. All
right, my friend, I'm obliged to you. We'll quit the gun racket; but
next time you show your pretty face I'll give you a run for it."
"And get shot," interposed Bob.
"If it's shoot, we'll get ours any minute. Say," went on the young man
in absolutely conversational tones, "don't you see I'm mad?"
Bob looked and saw.
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