Whether he did any damage or not, a dozen rifles answered venomously and flicked up tiny spurts of sand in the close neighborhood of the four.
"If they keep on trying," Lite commented drily, "they might make a killing, soon as they learn how to shoot straight." "'S jest like them dang Injuns!" Applehead grumbled, shooing the three before him down the draw.

"Four t' our one--it takes jest about that big a majority 'fore they feel comftable about buildin' up a fight.

Lead yore bosses down till we're outa easy shootin' distance, boys, 'n' then we'll head out fer where Luck ought t' be.

If they fixed a trap fer us, they've fixed another fer him, chances is, 'n! the sooner us fellers git t'gether the better show we'll all of us have.

You kin see, the way they worked it to split the bunch, that they ain't so dang anxious t' tie into us when we're t'gether--'n' that's why we can't git t' Luck a dang bit too soon, now I'm tellin' yuh!" Weary and Pink were finding things to say, also, but old Applehead went on with his monologue just as though they were listening.