But that seemed about impossible.

He could detect something moving now and then, and once or twice there was a twinkle of something red, like the eagle feather in the hair of the warrior, but he could make out nothing definitely.
"He's there; and all I want to do is to be certain of hitting him," he muttered, as he held the cocked rifle to his shoulder.

"I'm afeard that if I miss he'll take such good care of himself that I won't get another chance---" "There, Mickey, there's something," broke in Fred, who was scrutinizing the opening as closely as he could.

"Fire, quick! or you won't get the chance!" The words were scarcely uttered, when the Irishman, who had already taken aim, pulled the trigger, instantly lowering his piece to watch the result.
Both he and Fred fancied they heard an exclamation, but they could not be certain.

There was no perceptible commotion about the skylight, but the flickering, erratic movement which had puzzled them ceased on the instant.