"
Brent shuddered at the sight of the chill water but Bud went on
inexorably. "Now, ye've got ter start as fur up es ye handily
kin--because ther current's swift--an' if hit carries yer beyond thet
small bend ye comes out in quicksand. Jest foller me. I'll go fust."
Brent had faced a number of adventures of late, but for this newest one
he had little stomach. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and prepared
to go ahead and follow his companion's lead, since need left no
alternative.
As Bud's mule thrust its fore-feet into the creek's edge the creature
balked and the young man kicked him viciously. Brent was waiting with
bated breath when abruptly from overhead came the clean, sharp bark of
a rifle. Brent's hat went spinning from his head and he felt the light
sting of a grazing wound along his scalp. It seemed to be in the same
instant that he heard Bud's revolver barking its retort towards the
point from which the flash had gleamed. There followed a second report
and the zip of a bullet burying itself in wood, and then he heard Bud
yelling, "Go on!"
Realizing that once across the narrow stream he would be under shelter,
he kicked and belabored his mule to the take-off.
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