The scout had the intense chagrin, also, of feeling that his propensity for waggery had led into a piece of foolishness that most likely would militate against the captive Lizzie. Knowing that she had one friend, at least, so near at hand, they would be sure to adopt greater precautions, and instead of waiting to be attacked by Lightning Jo, would, most probably, attack him.
And acting upon this supposition, he backed out as speedily as possible, and resumed his circuitous approach to the camp-fire of the Comanches—the locality of which up to this time, he had been able to determine only by the smoke that rose from the opposite side of a small ridge several rods away.
But the chief, Swico-Cheque, suspecting that a large party of United States cavalry were upon his heels, concluded that the safest plan for him was to get away with as little delay as possible, to accomplish which he sent back several of his warriors to dispose of Lightning Jo, and to keep the rest in check until he could secure his retreat with his prize.
Consequently the scout had stolen along over the broken ground but a rod or two when he found himself face to face with a couple of herculean warriors, who, approaching the cluster of trees in the same cautious manner, encountered the great Indian-fighter sooner than was anticipated by either party.
“That’s good!” exclaimed Jo, “for now I will get warmed up to business. I’ll try a left-hander straight from the shoulder upon this chap, and a right upon t’other.”
The terrific blows were simultaneous with the conclusion, the startled red-skins turning back summersets upon the ground, where, with an incredible celerity, the frightful bowie-knife, which Jo whipped out from behind his neck, completed the ghastly work.
“Ain’t there any more?” he growled, glaring like a wild beast thirsting for prey. “By heavens, if they don’t come to me, I’ll go to them!”
And he was striding directly toward the camp of the Comanches, but, ere he could advance half-way, who should leap into view but young Egbert Rodman, his face white and scared, and panting from excitement and the great exertions he had made to find his companion.
“Oh, Jo! there’s something wrong!” he gasped; “the Comanches are fooling us both, and we shall not get Lizzie after all.”