"Injuns, or me name isn't Tim O'Rooney, from Tipperary, Ireland, the gem of the say!"
On a slight eminence, about an eighth of a mile south of them, stood the solitary Indian who had fired the alarming shot, he was in open view, as though he had no fears of the results of his challenge, and appeared to be surveying the white people with an air of curiosity that they should presume to encroach upon his hunting-grounds.
"If yez manes that, there's two of us, as me brother Pat towld the judge when he called him a good-for-nothing dog."
With which exclamation Tim O'Rooney sighted his rifle at the aborigine, and taking a tedious, uncomfortable aim, pulled the trigger, and then lowered his piece and stared at his target to watch the result. The Indian stood as motionless as a statue, and finally the Irishman drew a deep sigh.
"I wonder whether the bullet has reached him yet?"
"Reached him!" laughed Howard. "I saw it clip off a piece of rock fully forty feet from him."
"Worrah, worrah! but I've ate so much dinner I can't howld the gun stiddy."
"Look out! he's going to shoot again!" called Elwood, as he and Howard dropped on their faces. "Get down, Tim, or he'll hit you. He's a better marksman than you are."
The second discharge sent the bullet within a few inches of the Irishman's face, and somewhat alarmed him.
"Load quick!" admonished Howard, "and shelter yourself, or you are a dead man."
The Irishman obeyed this, and had his gun reloaded in a few moments.
"Now let me try my hand," said Elwood; "you can never hit him."
"The piece is too heavy for me to shoot off-hand and I'll rest it on my knee."
The boy took the gun, and placing the barrel on his knee, drew back the hammer, when presto! the savage whisked out of sight like magic. The noble aborigine had come to the conclusion that discretion was the better part of valor.
"Where is he?" asked the bewildered boy, rising to his feet and looking around him.
"I admire his sense; he doesn't care about being shot just yet."
"You have a good opinion of your marksmanship, Elwood, and he seems to fear you more than Tim."
"But he didn't give me time to practice on 'im," said the latter. "If he had stood there an hour or two I'd hit him sure."
"Yes, and he would have picked you off at the next fire. He's a good marksman at any rate."