A bit of flying lead tore through the leather back of the coach with an odd rip; another struck the casing of the door, sending the wooden splinters flying like arrows.

Hawk-eyed, Hamlin fired twice more, aiming at the sparks, grimly certain that a responding howl from the left evidenced a hit.
Then, as quickly, all was still, intensely black once more.

The Sergeant drew back from the window, leaning his gun against the casing.
"That will hold them for a while," he said cheerfully.

"Two less out there, I reckon, and the others won't get careless again right away.
Now is our time; are you ready ?" There was no response, the stillness so profound he could hear the faint ticking of the girl's watch.

He reached out, almost alarmed, and touched her dress.
"What is the trouble ?" he questioned anxiously.