Jim Ferrers, too, was taking careful aim at the moment.
It is a law of Nature that whatever goes up debris, mixed with larger pieces of rock and clots of earth, descended on the scene of the explosion.

Yet little of this flying stuff reached Dolph Gage and his companions, for they were up and running despite the mark that they thus presented to Ferrers.
Nor did the rascals stop running until they had reached distant cover.
"Stop it, Jim---don't shoot!" gasped Tom Reade, choking with laughter, as Ferrers leaped to his feet, taking aim after the fugitives.
"I want Dolph Gage, while I've got a good, legal excuse," growled Ferrers, glancing along rifle barrel at the forward sight.
"Don't think of shooting," panted Tom, darting forward and laying a hand on the rifle barrel to spoil the guide's aim.

"Jim, it isn't sportsmanlike to shoot a fleeing enemy in the back! Fight fair and square, Jim---if you must fight." There was much in this to appeal to the guide's sense of honor and fair play.

Though scowled, he lowered the rifle.
"Tom, you everlasting joker, what happened ?" demanded Harry Hazelton.
"You saw for yourself, didn't you ?" retorted Reade.
"Yes; but-----" "Are you so little of an engineer that you don't know a _mine_ when you see one, Harry ?" "But how did that mine come to be there ?" "I planted it." "When ?" "Today, when you started on your ride." "Oh!" "You see, Harry, I was pondering away over mining problems this morning.

As you had the only horse, that was all that there was left for me to do.