Ted's eyes were almost put out by a blinding flash, and there was a deafening roar.
Woofer had placed his forty-five close to his head, leaning far out of his saddle, and fired.
By same interposition of Providence, however, the ball went past his head, singeing his hair, and he bent forward and struck Woofer on the head with the butt of his own weapon.
Woofer seemed to shrink in the saddle, like a wet rag, and the Indian girl was slipping from his arms to the ground when Ted seized her and transferred her to his own saddle.
At the same moment the insensible form of Woofer slipped to the ground.
Feeling herself free of her burden, Magpie came to a stop, and trotted back to where Ted was waiting for her, and rubbed noses with Sultan.
The Indian girl had been rendered unconscious by a blow on the head in the tent, and was just recovering as Ted rescued her from a fall to the ground.
Presently she opened her eyes, and, not knowing what had taken place within the last few minutes, she tried to struggle out of Ted's arms, at the same time uttering shrill screams, and trying to use her finger nails on his face. She was fighting like a wild cat, and it was all Ted could do to prevent her from injuring him, while he was trying to get her quiet enough to realize the change in her fortunes.
Finally she recognized his voice and ceased to struggle, but sat up and looked at him in amazement.
"It is I, Singing Bird," said he. "I followed you and took you away from Woofer. You are safe."