“We may light a fire to-night, d’ye think?” inquired Dick; “we’ve not seed Injuns for some days.”
“P’raps ’twould be better not,” said Joe; “but I daresay we’re safe enough.”
A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found, and the three friends bivouacked. Towards dawn they were aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe.
“It’s a wolf likely,” said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their rifles nevertheless.
Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, and springing out of the camp snuffed the breeze anxiously.
“Up, lads! catch the nags! There’s something in the wind, for the dog niver did that afore.”
In a few seconds the horses were saddled and the packs secured.
“Call in the dog,” whispered Joe Blunt; “if he barks they’ll find out our whereabouts.”
“Here, Crusoe, come—”
It was too late; the dog barked loudly and savagely at the moment, and a troop of Indians came coursing over the plain. On hearing the unwonted sound they wheeled directly and made for the camp.
“It’s a war party; fly, lads! Nothin’ ’ll save our scalps now but our horses’ heels,” cried Joe.
In a moment they vaulted into the saddle and urged their steeds forward at the utmost speed. The savages observed them, and with an exulting yell dashed after them. Feeling that there was now no need of concealment, the three horsemen struck off into the open prairie, intending to depend entirely on the speed and stamina of their horses. They were good ones; but the Indians soon proved that they were equally well if not better mounted.
“It’ll be a hard run,” said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking furtively over his shoulder. “The varmints are mounted on wild horses—least ways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can throw the lasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the badger-holes, Dick. Hold in a bit, Henri; a foot in a hole just now would cost us our scalps. Keep down by the creek, lads.”
“Ha! now dey yell,” said Henri in a savage tone, looking back, and shaking his rifle at them. “Dis old pack-hoss give me moche trobel.”
The pace was now tremendous. Pursuers and pursued rose and sank on the prairie billows as they swept along,
