Beryl set her teeth into her lips, but grittily refrained from turning to look.

I breathed freer.
"Now, don't get scared," I warned, balanced myself as well as I could in the swaying car, and sent a shot back at them.
Weaver came up to my expectations.

He ducked, and the car swerved out of the trail and went wavering spitefully across the prairie.

Old King sent another rifle-bullet my way--I must have made a fine mark, standing up there--and he was a good shot.

I was mighty glad he was getting jolted enough to spoil his aim.
Weaver came to himself a bit and grabbed frantically for brake and throttle and steering-wheel all at once, it looked like.