“I’ll meet you right away!” answered Captain Hays.
He started down the hill immediately, followed by his entire command. He moved slowly, and, when the bottom of the ravine had been reached, turned—raced ahead at full speed—and came up in the rear of the Indians. While they had their eyes glued to the front, eagerly awaiting the advance from that direction, they were charged in the rear by the Rangers. The first fire threw them into instant confusion.
Yells, war-whoops, and shrill screams rent the air. The redskins scattered like quail, but, seeing the superiority of their own force, soon rallied.
“Draw your five-shooters, men,” cried the Captain of the Rangers. “We must meet the charge of the Comanches as we have always met them.”
The redskins were surrounding the Texans, so the Rangers were formed in a circle, fronting outwards. They were still mounted on their horses, and, for several minutes maintained that position without firing a shot. The Indians came on, yelping, and were soon near enough to throw their lances at the Texan frontiersmen.
Crash!
A spitting volley came from the five-shooters of the scouts and many a red man fell to the sod. Again a volley rang out and the Comanches ceased to advance, for the fire of the Rangers was fearfully accurate. The redskins fell back, but they were not defeated, and—in a few moments—again came on to the attack. The fight continued for an hour. Twice the Rangers charged and retreated to their first position. Their loads were now exhausted. The Comanche chief was rallying his henchmen for one more assault. Twenty-five of his painted warriors were prostrate upon the prairie.
The situation was critical for the Rangers, as many were badly wounded. Several had been killed.
Captain Hays, who was in the centre of the circle, now saw that their only chance was to kill the Indian chief.