He finally saw the shadow for the second time, and, at almost the same moment, a pink dot appeared in the woods.
The crack of a rifle followed, and a bullet knocked up a little dust at least fifty yards short of them.

Obed sniffed contemptuously.
"One good bullet wasted," he said, "and one good bullet, I suppose, deserves another, but they won't fire again--yet.

It shows that they know we're on guard.

They won't rush us.

They'll wait for time, thirst and starvation." Obed was right.