Below me slanted the green of pinyon, with the bleached treetops standing like spears, and uprising yellow stones.

Fancying I heard a gunshot, I leaned a straining ear against the soft breeze.

The proof came presently in the unmistakable report of Jones's blunderbuss.

It was repeated almost instantly, giving reality to the direction, which was down the slope of what I concluded must be the third ravine.

Wondering what was the meaning of the shots, and chagrined because I was out of the race, but calmer in mind, I let Satan stand.
Hardly a moment elapsed before a sharp bark tingled in my ears.