The first flirt which the Indian made was so sudden and unexpected that the Colonel fell backwards on the floor; but he was up on the instant, and grappled the sinewy arms again.
"If this keeps on much longer," thought the officer, "something must give way. Suppose we should pull the rascal in two, with half inside and half out. That might be fair to us, but the Indian, considered strictly as an Indian, would not be of much account. I wonder whether——"
"Hello, Colonel, what's going on?"
Jo Stinger had heard the singular disturbance, and, unable to guess its meaning, was hurrying down the ladder to inform himself.
The exquisite absurdity of the situation caused a momentary reaction from the gloom which had oppressed Colonel Preston, and led him to reply—
"I've got a red man here that we're using as a cross-cut saw, and we've stretched him out to almost double——"
At that instant the individual referred to, knowing that all depended on one supreme effort, wrenched his wrists loose and, like a flash, struck the Colonel such a blow in the face that he reeled backwards almost to the other side the room.
The Wyandots at the other end of the line were reinforced at the critical juncture by two others, who caught hold of their man wherever it was the most convenient, and the four gave a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether, that was sure to accomplish something definite.
Fortunately for the elongated Indian his legs were equal to the strain, and he shot backward through the opening like the lady in the show, who is fired from the giant cannon by the aid of springs alone. He and his friends rolled over in one promiscuous heap, but were quickly on their feet and skurried away in a twinkling.
Jo Stinger scarcely credited the singular story when the Colonel related it, but when the particulars were given, he could not refuse to believe.