Better cripple him.

I think." Scott raised his gun and fired.

Fortunately, Scott was nervous, and missed, but the miss was a narrow thing, and Nickie heard the ping of the bullet and the plunk as it buried it in the bark of the tree behind him.
Suddenly a spasm of comprehension came to Nickie, despite the whisky, and he made a leap the gum-butt, and hastily entrenched himself.

He was being fired at, and it was neither pleasant nor healthy to be fired at, that much he realised.

He peered, monkey-like, from behind the tree, and made an effort to grasp the situation.