For sure they didn't seem to know much about this kind of fighting. They were standing or sitting in plain view up there, and he sniffed in disgust. Evidently they had not even considered that he might still be around. The man in green was having trouble getting the dogs quiet; they were bunched together, tangled, in each other's way. The man separated the master leash and handed over three dogs to a deputy. Rambo lay beneath the cool underbrush and aimed at the three that the man in green had kept and shot two of them just like that. He would have hit the third dog with his next shot if the man in green had not yanked it back from the edge. The policemen were shouting, jumping low out of sight. The other set of dogs was acting wild, howling, straining to get away from the deputy who held them. Rambo quickly shot one. Another shied and slipped off the cliff, and the deputy holding the leash tried to pull it back instead of letting go, lost his balance and dragging the last of his dogs with him, he went over the side too. He wailed once just before he thumped on the rocks far below.
There was an instant when they lay flat paralyzed, the sun glaring on them, no wind, nothing. The instant stretched on and on. Then in a scramble Shingleton aimed down at the forest, shooting along its edge. He had four shots off when another man joined him, and then another, and then except for Teasle and Orval, everyone was laying down a heavy line of fire, the gun reports rattling off together, as if a bandoleer of ammunition had been thrown into a furnace and the heated cartridges were exploding in a steady roll.
'That's enough,' Teasle ordered.
But nobody obeyed. They were spread flat along the ridge, behind rocks and mounds of earth, shooting as fast as their rifles would allow. Crack, crack, crack, their trigger hands in constant motion, ejecting old shells, chambering fresh ones, not really aiming as they yanked off their bullets, the recoils jolting them. Crack, crack, crack. And Teasle was sprawled in a furrow of rock, shouting, 'That's enough I told you! Stop I said!'
But they kept right on, strafing the line of trees and scrub, homing in where another's bullet had churned the leaves and made it seem that someone was there moving.
A few were reloading and starting again. Most had already done so. Rifles of different make: Winchester, Springfield, Remington, Martin, Savage. Different calibers:.270,.300,.30-06,.30-30. Bolts and levers and different-sized magazines holding six rounds or seven or nine, empty cartridges strewn around and more coming all the time. Orval was holding steady his one last dog, shouting 'Stop it!' And Teasle was rising from the furrow, crouching as if to pounce, the veins in his neck bulging as he yelled, 'Dammit, stop I said! The next man pulls a trigger loses two days' pay!'
That struck them. Some had not yet reloaded the second time. The rest somehow checked themselves, tense, rifles at their shoulders, fingers poised over triggers, eager to resume. Then a cloud shut out the sun and they were all right. They sucked in air and swallowed and lowered their rifles sluggishly.
A breeze came up, gently brushing the dry leaves in the forest up behind them. 'Christ,' Shingleton said. His cheeks were pale and taut like the skin on a drum.
Ward relaxed off his elbows onto his stomach and licked at the corners of his mouth. 'Christ is right,' he said.
'Never so scared,' somebody was mumbling over and over. Teasle looked and it was the young deputy.
'What's that smell?' Lester said.
'Never so scared.'
'Him. It's coming from him.'
'My pants. I -'
'Leave him alone,' Teasle said.
The cloud that had shut out the sun passed smoothly on, and the bright glare retouched him, and glancing over at where the sun was low in the valley, Teasle watched another cloud approaching, a bigger one, and behind it, not far off, the sky was rumpled with them, black and puffy. He unstuck his sweaty shirt from his chest and then leaving it alone because it stuck right back to his skin, he hoped it might rain. At least that would cool things off.
Next to him he heard Lester talking about the young deputy: 'I know he can't help it, but Christ what a smell.'
'Never so scared.'
'Leave him alone,' Teasle said, looking at the clouds.
'Any bets we hit that kid just now?' Mitch said.
'Anybody hurt? Everybody O.K.?' Ward said.
'Yeah sure,' Lester said. 'Everybody's fine.'
Teasle looked sharply at him. 'Guess again. There's only nine of us. Jeremy went over the side.'
'And three of my dogs went over with him. And two others are shot,' Orval said. His voice was all in one tone, like from a machine, and the strangeness of it made everybody turn to him. 'Five. Five of them gone.' His face was the gray of powdered cement.
'Orval. I'm sorry,' Teasle said.
'You damn well should be. This was your damn foolish idea in the first place. You just couldn't wait and let the state police take over.'
The last dog was trembling on its haunches, whining.
