The ruffian hesitated, but, as she was about to fire, he raised his hands quickly at their full stretch and she advanced with the revolver pointed at his heart and her finger on the trigger and took his revolvers from his belt and dropped them on the sod. His knife and hatchet followed and she stepped back a little, still transfixing him with her eyes.
“Fall back a little,” she said.
“But, Miss—”
“Fall back! I will not bid you three times before I fire.”
He stepped back about six paces, when she again called him to a halt and advancing, picked up the weapons he had dropped and hurled them down a deep ravine close at hand. The weapons of the Indian followed, rifle and all, and the two were weaponless and at the mercy of a girl.
“You have made a slight mistake in the character of the woman with whom you are dealing, my good sir,” she said. “Send that Indian away; he is not so badly wounded but he can walk.”
“What ar’ ye goin’ to do?”
“Obey my orders; I am not here to answer questions.”
“You kin go back to camp, Anatole,” said Velveteens, “but don’t you say any thing about this yer or I’ll kill ye when I come back; now ye hear me.”
The Indian staggered to his feet and hurried away down the mountain path.