A. M. Chisholm

“ The report of my rifle blended with Dinny's, and on the heels of it came others. Leaves and twigs flew in the distant bushes as the lead swept them. I thought I could see a movement, and fired again, but whether I had hit anything or not I could not tell.
"Do you think we got him?" I asked, fervently hoping that we had; for, while human life is theoretically sacred, it is quite a different matter when the gentleman whom it animates is trying his best to deprive you of yours. ”

“ Toft's rifle stabbed the darkness with a ten-foot lance of flame. Momentarily it lit up a narrow lane walled with black. At the farther end of it a man crouched, with stubbly cheeks and working jaws and eyes fierce as a beast of prey's, and I knew him for Nootka Charlie. His rifle flamed in answer. ”

“ It is astonishing how readily one becomes accustomed to being shot at. At first I was nervous, not needing Toft's injunction to lie low. But in a few minutes I listened to the popping of the rifles and the sing and rap of lead with comparative indifference. Only I earnestly desired to do some shooting myself.
"That sport over there in them bushes," said Dinny, "is too durn reg'lar in his habits. Also he's got too good an eye. He's hit the chink between these here rocks twice. Next time he shoots let's all take a chance about two foot under his smoke. ”