He peeped out and saw that his friends were getting nearer to the knoll.
"They's closin' in now.

We'll soon be gittin' home," he reported.
Hopalong looked out in time to see Buck make a dash for a bowlder that lay ten yards in front of him, which he reached in safety.

Lanky also ran in and Pete added five more yards to his advance.

Buck made another dash, but leaped into the air, and, coming down as if from an intentional high jump, staggered and stumbled for a few paces and then fell flat, rolling over and over toward the shelter of a split rock, where he lay quiet.

A leering red face peered over the rocks on the knoll, but the whoop of exultation was cut short, for Red's rifle cracked and the warrior rolled down the steep bank, where another shot from the same gun settled him beyond question.
Hopalong choked and, turning his face away, angrily dashed his knuckles into his eyes.