“Big fight—big fight!” said the chief. “Kill big fight—white man fight for Wahlangson?”
“Aye! that he will,” replied the chivalrous Irishman, going into the trouble for the reason that he loved it, and because he believed it was policy to do so.
“Take her away,” said he, pointing to Ruth.
“Yes—you take.”
Teddy grasped her hand and led her some distance in the wood.
“Now do you stay there till the fight is done wid. It won’t be long, and I’ll soon be wid yes.”
“God protect you.”
Teddy hurried back, arriving just as the conflict began. Instead of fighting behind trees, as is the general custom of Indians, they “charged” on and the fight became hand-to-hand. This was just the thing for Teddy, who laid about him in the same ecstatic manner that he did before being captured on the flat-boat. While thus engaged he saw his old friend Wahlangson upon the ground, and hard pressed by two huge redskins. Springing forward he sent one turning flip flap, which so relieved the chief that he regained the advantage he had lost, and soon stood on the same footing with his warriors.
The contest was short, sharp and decisive. Ten minutes after it was made the attacking party fled in confusion, leaving two dead and several badly wounded.
If Wahlangson had experienced a deep admiration for the reckless Irishman, he was now literally overflowing with it. Going up to him, he took his hand, and undoubtedly, with great agitation, said,