Fire away, you cowardly brutes!" he roared, as if he fancied that the enemy could hear him.

"I don't believe you could hit a runaway railway truck or a cantering furniture-van, let alone a horse with a man on its back." "Ah!" cried West, at that moment, as he turned from looking back and snatched off his broad-brimmed hat.
"Noll, boy, don't say you're hit!" cried Ingleborough passionately.
"No," said West, drawing his breath with a peculiar sound.

"I've escaped; but I thought I'd got it! I felt as if my hat was being snatched off, and something touched my ear." "Turn your head this way!" said Ingleborough huskily.
"Wait a moment!" replied West, who had passed his hat into his rein hand, to afterwards clap his right to his head and draw it away.
"First blood to them!" he said, with a mocking laugh.
"Here, we must ease up and let me bandage it," said Ingleborough.
"No, thanks: that's a likely tale with the bullets flying like this! Keep on, man; we've got a fair start! Let's get past those trees forward yonder; they'll shelter us a bit!" "But your wound, my lad ?" "They've only nicked the edge of my ear.

It will stop bleeding of itself.

There's nothing to mind!" Ingleborough watched him eagerly as he spoke, and seeing for himself that there was only a feeble trickle of blood from the cut ear, he pressed on in the required direction.
"Give me warning," he cried, "if you feel faint, and we'll pull up, dismount, and cover ourselves with our horses while we try what practice we can make if they come on." "_If_ they come on!" said West bitterly.