Intermittent puffs of smoke arising from a point between
Skinny and Buck showed where Lanky Smith was improving each shining
hour.
There had been no directions given, each man choosing his own
position, yet each was of strategic worth. Billy protected the horses,
Hopalong and Skinny swept the knoll with a plunging fire, and Lanky
and Buck lay in the course the besieged would most likely take if they
tried a dash. Off to the east Red barred them from creeping down the
arroyo, and from where Pete was he could creep up to within sixty
yards if he chose the right rocks. The ranges varied from four hundred
yards for Buck to sixty for Pete, and the others averaged close to
three hundred, which allowed very good shooting on both sides.
Hopalong and Skinny gradually moved nearer to each other for
companionship, and as the former raised his head to see what the
others were doing he received a graze on the ear.
"Wow!" he yelled, rubbing the tingling member.
Two puffs of smoke floated up from the knoll, and Skinny swore.
"Where'd he get yu, Fat?" asked Hopalong.
"G'wan, don't get funny, son," replied Skinny.
Jets of smoke arose from the north and east, where Buck and Red were
stationed, and Pete was half way to the knoll. So far he hadn't been
hit as he dodged in and out, and, emboldened by his luck, he made a
run of five yards and his sombrero was shot from his head.
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