Just as the rider flashed opposite the group of silent canvas covered wagons, he seemed to catch sight of them. Without drawing rein or checking the desperate speed of his horse he shouted:
“Look out for Injins! they’re close onto you!”
And then man and animal plunged into the night and disappeared, though the fast diminishing thumping of hoofs was heard for some seconds later.
“He’s a Pony Express rider,” said Alden; “and is making for the next station as fast as his horse can carry him.”
“Ye’re right, younker,” remarked Shagbark, who appeared at the side of the two with no more noise than that of the flitting shadows on the plain.
“Did he fire any of those shots?” asked Alden.
“He couldn’t; he don’t carry a rifle.”
“He has his revolver.”
“It’s easy to tell the difference atween the barking of a revolver and a big gun; there warn’t any pistol used. He run right into the hornet’s nest afore he seed it, and the varmints opened on him; he must have throwed himself forrard on his hoss and the animal scratched gravel as them ponies know how to do. Every shot missed ’em both; I reckon that rider will carry his gun after this, even if it adds to the weight of his load.”
“It seems to me,” said Alden, “that if those Indians intended to attack us they wouldn’t have fired at the express rider.”