He seemed to gather his whole powerful frame compactly together, and shot forward.
The nearest mountaineer fired, but the bullet merely whistled where the horse and rider had been, and sent snow flying from the bushes on the other side of the road.

A second rifle cracked but it, too, missed the flying target, and the mountaineers, turning into the main road, gave pursuit.
Harry felt a cold shiver along his spine when the leading man pulled trigger.

It was the first time in his life that any one had ever fired upon him, and the shiver returned with the second shot.

And since they had missed, confidence came.

He knew that they could not overtake him, and they would not dare to pursue him long.