To the right and left of these rocks was a clear space, flat and open, with not a tree or a bush large enough to conceal danger such as he was in search of.
The slope up which he had just driven the horses was likewise free from obstruction, so that if his enemy was behind any of the rocks he was doomed to stay there or offer himself as a target for Calumet's pistol.
"Wise, I reckon," he sneered.

"Figgered to plug me while the horses was restin', knowin' I'd have to breathe them about here.

Thought one shot would get me.

Missed his reckonin'.

Must be a mite peeved by this time." His gaze became intent again, but this time it was directed to some underbrush about two hundred yards distant, back of the rocks.