"Not on your life," he said. "This is not the time for anything like that. If we were to get them after us right now we'd last about as long as a snowball on a hot stove. Wait a while."
While Stella said nothing she was angry clear through. It hurt her like a blow to have her pony ridden by another.
The Indian, having fastened his blanket on the pony's back to his satisfaction, sprang upon his back, and began to lash him with a quirt.
"Oh, the brute!" exclaimed Stella. "I hope Magpie throws and kills him for his cruelty."
Magpie wheeled and bucked under the unusual punishment, and the Indian continued to beat him.
"I can't stand it any longer," cried Stella, gnashing her pretty, small, white teeth.
This time she got her rifle to her shoulder, and, before she could be restrained, had fired a shot. Perhaps Ted knew that the provocation was great, for he did not interfere this time.
At any rate, the ball flew close enough to knock the hat from the Indian's head, and cause him to dismount and scurry to the shelter of the rock wall.
But it caused the greatest excitement in the camp.
The man with the silver mask rushed forward, rapidly scanning the cliff for whoever had fired the shot.