As the piece continued to disgorge bullets at the rate of six hundred a minute, Dave, a grim smile on his lips, swung the muzzle of the piece so as to spread the fire along the entire line of the main ambush.
"Take the glass," Tom roared in Harry's ear, above the din.

"See how Fulsbee is throwing up dust and bits of rock all along that rattled line." Hazelton watched, his face showing an appreciative grin.
"It has the scoundrels scared and going!" Hazelton yelled back.
Fully fifteen hundred cartridges did the machine gun deliver up and down that line.
Then, suddenly, Dave Fulsbee swung the gun around, delivering a hailstorm of bullets against the bald knob rock and the bushes to the right of it.
"There's the answer!" gleefully uttered Hazelton, who had just handed the glass back to his chum.
The "answer" was a fluttering bit of white cloth tied to a rifle and hoisted over the bushes at the right of the bald knob.
"Who do you suppose is holding the white cloth ?" chuckled Tom.
"I can't guess," Harry confessed.
"Our old and dangerous friend Peter," Tom laughed.
"Bad Pete!" "No; Scared Pete." There was a sudden twinkle in Hazelton's eyes as he espied Dave Fulsbee's rifle lying on the ground beside the machine gun.
In another instant Harry had that rifle and was back at Tom's side.
Harry threw open the magazine, making sure that there were cartridges in the weapon.

Then he dropped to one knee, taking careful sight in the direction of the white flag.
"You idiot---what are you doing ?" blazed Tom.
The fire from the camp had died out.

That from the assailants beyond had ceased at least thirty seconds earlier.
One sharp report broke the hush that followed.
"Who's doing that work?
Stop it!" ordered Fulsbee, turning wrathfully.
"I'm through," grinned Harry meekly.
"What do you mean by shooting at a flag of truce ?" demanded the deputy sheriff angrily.
"I didn't," Harry argued, laying the rifle down on the ground.
"I sent one in with my compliments, to see whether the fellow with the white rag would get the trembles.

I guess he did, for the white rag has gone out of sight." "They may start the firing again," uttered Dave Fulsbee.