The flank movement was so regulated that he kept his enemy dimly in sight, for he did not mean to be surprised by any sudden action on his part.
All this was well enough, but the Apache overthrew the whole scheme by an unexpected movement.
The trapper was on his right, and a couple of rods distant, when the warrior seemed to conclude that it was time for him to do something. He stepped off at his usual pace, which would have carried him speedily beyond sight had Eph been somewhere else, but unfortunately he moved straight toward the old hunter.
To retreat or advance would have been certain betrayal, and Eph did not attempt it. Instead, he silently drew his pistol and grasped it, ready for firing.
The Apache had no thought of anything of this kind, but he had taken less than three paces, when he discovered the figure on the earth in front of him. He uttered no outcry, but stopped and placed his hand at his waist, as if to draw a weapon therefrom. He, too, carried a gun, most likely a Winchester, and was expert in its use. He had no blanket, his body being bare above the waist, and his long, coarse hair dangled about his shoulders. He was much shorter and smaller in every way than the white man, but every ounce of his body was like that of a tiger.
The Indian might have brought instant help by a signal, but to do that would have been a confession that he was afraid to attack a single individual, and the warrior “wasn’t that sort of a fellow.”
His pause was only momentary. He stooped down like an animal about to leap across a chasm and the trapper caught a movement of his right hand, which convinced him the warrior had drawn a knife and meant to spring upon him.
Eph’s revolver was leveled at the savage, who was still stealing forward when a single chamber was discharged. The shot was unerring, and (what was singular in the case of an American Indian) he sank downward without any outcry.
The trapper needed no one to tell him what next to do. He knew the report of his weapon would bring nearly if not all the other Apaches to the spot, and he could not get away too soon. Springing to his feet, he loped swiftly toward the building, never pausing until he stood in front of the broad door.
He glanced keenly to the right and left while making this run, but though he heard the sounds of hoofs, he saw none of the raiders eager for the chance to cut him down.