When they came to
the first house, they stopped simultaneously, and looked round. Their
pursuers were not more than two hundred yards behind them.
"In here, Surajah," Dick said, as he ran into the ruined hut.
Its roof was gone, its door hung loose on its hinges. It had but one
window, a small one, looking up the valley. Dick laid his gun on the
sill, which was nearly level with his shoulder.
"I must wait until they get pretty close," he said, "for I am panting
so that I can't keep the barrel steady, even with this rest."
"I will kneel down outside," Surajah said.
"Mind, I will fire first, Surajah. Don't you fire until they are
within twenty yards of you. By that time I shall have loaded again."
Dick had more time than he had expected, for as soon as their pursuers
saw them enter the hut, they slackened their pace considerably. They
were within about eighty yards, when Dick held his breath and
standing, for a moment, immovable, took a steady aim and fired.
One of the men stumbled in his run, took a step or two forward, and
then fell on his face. The others paused for a moment, and then, with
a fierce yell, ran forward.
The moment he had fired, Dick dropped the stock of his gun on to the
ground, snatched a cartridge from the bandolier, bit off the end, and
emptied the powder into the barrel, gave the gun a shake, so as to be
sure that it ran into the touch hole, and then rammed down the bullet.
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