That was what I hit." Deputy Dave's assistant was now cleaning out the soot-choked barrels of the machine gun, that the piece might be fit for use again as soon as the barrels had cooled.
"I reckon," declared Dave, "that our friends have done their worst.
It's my private wager that they're now doing a foot race for the back trails." "Is any one of our fellows hit ?" called Tom, striding over to the late firing line.

"Anyone hit?
If so, we must take care of him at once." Tom went the length of the line, only to discover that none of the camp's defenders had been injured, despite the shower of bullets that had been poured in during the brief but brisk engagement.
Three of the engineers displayed clothing that had been pierced by bullets.
"Dave," called Tom, "how soon will it be safe to send over to the late strongholds and find out whether any of Naughty Peter's friends have any hurts that demand Doc Gitney's attention ?" "Huh! If any of the varmints are hit, I reckon they can wait," muttered Fulsbee.
"Not near this camp!" retorted Reade with spirit.

"If any human being around here has been hurt he must have prompt care.

How soon will it be safe to start ?" "I don't know how soon it will be safe," Dave retorted.

"I want to take about a half dozen of the young fellows, on horseback, and ride over just to see if we can draw any fire.