Yer wa'n't hurt, or nuthin', durin' the
scrap?"
"No more than a few bruises, but it an happened so quickly I haven't
any breath left. I'll be all right in a minute. How are we fixed for
ammunition?"
"Blame pore, if yer ask me; not more'n twenty cartridges atween us. I
wa'n't a lookin' fer no such scrap just now; but we'll get along, I
reckon, fer thar ain't any o' that bunch anxious ter get hurt none,
less maybe it might be Lacy. What gets my goat is this yere plug
tobacco," and he gazed mournfully at the small fragment in his hand.
"That ain't hardly 'nough ov it left fer a good chaw; how are you
fixed, Jim?"
"Never use it, Dan, but here's a badly smashed cigar."
"That'll help some--say, ain't that one o' them shirky birds yonder?
Sure; it's Bill himself. I don't know whether ter take a snap-shot at
the cuss, er wait an' hear what he's got ter say--Hello, there!"
The fellow who stood partially revealed above the bank stared in the
direction of the voice, and then ventured to expose himself further.
"Hello yourself," he answered.
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