The men on shore might or might not consider the Chief's swim to be proof that he knew their intentions. They were probably discussing the matter in some agitation right now. But they couldn't know that the party on the semi-island was armed.
Suddenly Mike said crisply: "We're goin' to have visitors."
He lay down carefully on the ground, fifteen feet uphill from Sally, where he could look over the ridge. He snuggled the .22 target rifle professionally to his shoulder. He drew a bead.
Three men very casually strolled out of the brushwood on the shore. They moved nonchalantly toward the strand of rocks that led out to the picnic spot. They looked like anybody else from Bootstrap. Casual, rough work clothing.... Haney bent down and picked up four good throwing stones. His expression was pained.
Joe said: "We've got pistols, Haney, and Sally's a good shot."
The men came on. Their manner was elaborately casual. Joe stepped up into view.
"No visitors!" he called. "We don't want company!"
One of the men held his hand to his ear, as if not understanding. They came on. They made no threatening gestures.
Then Joe took his hand out of his pocket, the pistol Sally'd given him gripped tightly.
"I mean that!" he said harshly. "Stand back!"
One of the three spoke sharply. On that instant three snub-nosed pistols appeared. Bullets whined as the men hurtled forward. The purpose was not so much murder at this moment as the demoralizing effect of bullets flying overhead while the three assassins got close enough to do their bloody job with precision.
A stone whizzed by Joe--Haney had thrown it--and the small target rifle in Mike's hands coughed twice. Joe held his fire. He had only six bullets and three targets to hit. With a familiar revolver he'd have started shooting now, but thirty yards is a long range with a strange pistol at a moving target.
One of the three killers stumbled and crashed to the ground. A second seemed suddenly to be grinning widely on one side of his face. A .22 bullet had slashed his cheek. The third ran head on into a rock thrown by Haney. It knocked the breath out of him and his pistol fell from his hand.
Joe fired deliberately at the widely grinning man and saw him spin around. Mike's target rifle spat again and the man Joe had hit wheeled and ran heavily, making incoherent yells. The one who'd tumbled scrambled to his feet and fled, hopping crazily, favoring one leg. Deserted, the third man turned and ran too, still doubled over and still gasping.