A bullet buried itself in one of the trees on the hill, and Shif'less Sol turned over with a sniff of contempt.
"If they don't shoot better'n that," he said, "I might ez well go to sleep." But the forest duel had begun, and it was a contest of skill against skill, of craft against craft.

Every device of wilderness warfare known to the red men was practiced, too, by the white men who confronted them.
Paul at first felt an intense excitement, but it was soothed by the calm words of Shif'less Sol.
"I'd be easy about it, Paul," said the shiftless one.

"That wuz jest a feeler.

They've found out that we're ready for 'em.

There ain't no chance of a surprise, an' they shot that bullet merely as a sort o' way o' tellin' us that they had come.