I ain't afraid if you'll only come on; but don't skulk this way." Suddenly he cried aloud in a frenzy of exasperation, "Damn you, come on, will you?
Come on and have it out." His rifle was at his shoulder, he was covering bush after bush, rock after rock, aiming at every denser shadow.

All at once, and quite involuntarily, his forefinger crooked, and the rifle spoke and flamed.

The canyons roared back the echo, tossing it out far over the desert in a rippling, widening wave of sound.
McTeague lowered the rifle hastily, with an exclamation of dismay.
"You fool," he said to himself, "you fool.

You've done it now.

They could hear that miles away.