Speaking about gunmen, I'm a beaut! See that hawk screechin' around up there?
Well, watch!" The hawk soared high above.

Pringle barely raised Foy's rifle to his shoulder as he fired; the hawk tumbled headlong.

Pringle jerked the lever, throwing another cartridge into the barrel, as if to fire again at the falling bird.

Inconceivably swift, the cocked rifle whirled to cover the seated posse.
"Steady!" said Pringle.

"I'm watchin' you, Nueces! Chris, when you're able to walk, go on down and pick you a horse from that bunch.
Unsaddle the others and drive 'em along a ways as you go." Still speaking, he edged behind the cover of a high rock.