“The gulch, pardner! Streak for the gulch!” sung out a stentorian voice; and sending another bullet among the on-rushing redskins, this time with effect, Smokestack Bill kicked up his horse, which had been lying prone, and in half a minute was flying side by side with his friend.
Short though this check had been, yet it had given them a momentary advantage. But, now, as they neared the mouth of the pass, it became clear to these two experienced Indian fighters that one of them must give his life for the rest.
“Take the young lady on,” said the scout. “You’re in it together, and must get out of it together. Reckon I’ll stand them back long enough for you to strike cover.”
Here was a temptation. Vipan knew well that it was so. A short ten minutes would save her—would save them both. His friend could hold the bloodthirsty savages in check for more than that. A struggle raged within him—a bitter struggle—but he conquered.
“No, no, old pard. I’m the man to stay,” he answered, slipping from his saddle, for they were now at the entrance of the pass. “Good-bye. Take her in safe.”
It was no time for talking. The pursuers, rendered tenfold more daring by the prospect of the most coveted prize of all—a white woman—were almost on their heels, the rocks re-echoing their exultant yells. Yseulte’s horse, maddened with terror and stimulated by a shower of blows from the scout, bounded forward at a tearing gallop.
“Wait, wait! We cannot leave him like this! We must turn back!” she cried, breathless, but unable to control her steed, which was stampeding as though all the Sioux in the North-West were setting fire to its tail.
“Help me! Help me to turn back!” she cried, in a perfect frenzy of despair. “We have deserted him—left him to die!”
Left alone, the bold adventurer felt no longer any hope, but in its stead he was conscious of a wild elation. His death would purchase her safety, and death was nothing in itself, but every moment gained was of paramount importance. Carefully he drew a bead on the charging warriors and fired. A pony fell. Another rapid shot. This time a human victim. This stopped their headlong rush, and still wheeling in circles they hesitated to come nearer.
He glanced around. Overhead, the slopes, almost precipitous, offered many a possible hiding-place. He might even escape—but he was not there for that. He was there to hold back the enemy—till night, if necessary.