At any rate Jed and I were just starting on another trip when a rifle went off from the Indian hill, and then another.
"Come back!" mother cried out.
I looked at Jed, and found him looking at me.

I knew he was stubborn and had made up his mind to be the last one in.

So I started to advance, and at the same instant he started.
"You!--Jesse!" cried my mother.

And there was more than a smacking in the way she said it.
Jed offered to clasp hands, but I shook my head.
"Run for it," I said.
And while we hotfooted it across the sand it seemed all the rifles on Indian hill were turned loose on us.

I got to the spring a little ahead, so that Jed had to wait for me to fill my pails.
"Now run for it," he told me; and from the leisurely way he went about filling his own pails I knew he was determined to be in last.
So I crouched down, and, while I waited, watched the puffs of dust raised by the bullets.