I just had time
to see a flash through one of the holes in the wall and down went my head
again as a bullet smacked once more upon the ledge behind. Yet another
shot followed and seemed to miss everything, for I heard no sound of lead
on stone, and then up went my head and hand together and I was covering
that bit of wall with my own revolver. I saw that my enemy was no very
dead shot and I meant to risk his fire and snap at the flash through the
wall. I knew I could get quite near enough his peep hole to startle him,
and after I had sprinkled the near neighbourhood of that aperture for
five or six seconds I thought it probably odds against his keeping his
head sufficiently to do much aiming. To be quite candid I must confess
that it was a soothing sensation to feel I was the better man with a gun,
and that I should have been in a proper fright if it had been the other
way about. One hears a good deal of discussion on the quality of courage
nowadays, and there is my own small contribution.
The seconds passed, my finger on the trigger and my eyes glued to the
largest crevice I could spy in that wall, but there was never another
flash or crack. And then it suddenly struck me that the man might be
moving down the wall to get a shot at me from another angle. As usual I
acted on impulse, and this time I think correctly.
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