"So long, an' good luck, Kid," Red replied.

Johnny wriggled across the cut on his stomach, picking out the shadows and gaining the shelter of the opposite bank, stood up, and ran to the hut. Red fired and then Johnny cautiously climbed through the window and dropped to the floor.

He had anticipated Clausen by the fraction of a second. As his feet touched the floor the noise of Clausen's arrival saluted him and the startled Johnny jerked his gun loose and sent a shot in the other's direction, leaping aside on the instant. The flash of the discharge was gone too quickly for him to distinguish anything and the scrambling sound that followed mystified him further. That there had been no return shot did not cause him to dance with joy, far otherwise; it made him drop silently to his stomach and hunt the darkest part of the hut, the west wall. He lay still for a minute, eyes and ears strained for a sound to tell him where to shoot. Then Red called to him and wanted an answer, whereupon Johnny thought of things he ached to call Red. Then he heard a low voice outside the south window, and it called: "Clausen, Clausen—what happened? Why don't you answer?"

"Oh, so my guest is Clausen, hey?" Johnny thought. "Wonder if Clausen can see in th' dark? 'Nother d—d fool wanting an answer! I'll bet Clausen is hugging th' dark spots, too. Wonder if I scared him as much as he scared me?"

The suspense was becoming too much of a strain and, poking his Colt out in front of him, he began to move forward, his eyes staring ahead of him at the place where Clausen ought to be.

Inch by inch he advanced, holding his breath as well as he could, every moment expecting to have Clausen salute him in the face with a hot .45. Johnny was scared, and well scared, but it only proves courage to go on when scared stiff, and Johnny went on and along the wall he thought Clausen was using for a highway.

"Wonder how it feels to have yore brains blowed out," he shivered. "For God's sake, Clausen, make a noise—sneeze, cough, choke, yell, anything!" he prayed, but Clausen remained ominously silent. Johnny pushed his Colt out farther and poked it all around. Touching the wall it made a slight scraping sound and Johnny's blood froze. Still no move from Clausen, and his fright went down a notch—Clausen was evidently even more scared than he was. That was consoling. Perhaps he was so scared that he couldn't pull a trigger, which would be far more consoling.

"Johnny! Johnny! Answer, can't you!" came Red's stentorian voice, causing Johnny to jump a few inches off the floor.

"Clausen! Clausen!" came another voice.

"For God's sake, answer, Clausen! Tell 'em yo're here!" prayed Johnny. "Yo're d—d unpolite, anyhow."

By this time he was opposite the door and he wondered if Pete had been told not to bombard it. He stopped and looked, and stared. What was that thing on the floor? Or was it anything at all? He blinked and moved closer. It looked like a head, but Johnny was taking no chances. He stared steadily into the blackest part of the hut for a moment and then looked again at the object. He could see it a little plainer now, for it was not quite as dark outside as it was in the building; but he was not sure about it.