We'll hold 'em off while you fix the horses--can't let ourselves be set afoot out here!" "I-should-say--NOT!" Andy Green punctuated the sentence with a shot or two.

"Say, I wish they'd quit sneaking around in those trees that way, so a fellow could see where to shoot!" A half hour dragged by.

From the rim-rock came occasional shots, to which the besieged could not afford to reply, they were so fully occupied with holding back those who skulked among the trees.

The horses, fancying perhaps that this was a motion-picture scene, dozed behind their rock-and-brush shelters and switched apathetically at buzzing flies and whining bullets alike.

Their masters crouched behind their bowlders and watched catlike for some open demonstration, and fired when they had the slightest reason to believe that they would hit something besides scenery.
"Miguel must have upset their plans a little," Luck deduced after a lull.