Not only that, but the red men had already lost several of their best warriors, and having been repeatedly baffled in their attempts to fire the building, were considering a withdrawal, at the moment they were joined by their comrade, who received such unmerited mercy from Mrs. Shirril.
The shouts, firing of guns, and tramp of the horses settled the question off-hand. There was an instant scattering to their own steeds, upon whose backs they vaulted, and then, turning their heads toward the mesquite bush, they sent them flying away at breakneck speed.
But the Texans were not to be disappointed 175 of their entertainment in that style. Catching a glimpse of the scurrying horsemen, they were after them like so many thunderbolts, firing their pistols and rifles, even when there was no chance of hitting anything. There was no time to aim, and they took the chances of so much powder accomplishing something, when burned with ardor and eagerness.
Thus it came about that, within a minute after the arrival of our friends, they were out of sight again in the brush, doing their utmost to teach the marauders a lesson that would keep them forever away from that neighborhood.
“Ballyhoo” fixed his eye on one of the red men, who seemed to be at the rear. He was in fact the very fellow whose life had been spared by Mrs. Shirril. Arriving on the ground at the last moment, he was obliged to run several rods before reaching his horse; but he did it quickly, and, turning his head toward the bush, dashed after his companions and was almost upon their heels.
“You’re my game!” exclaimed Gleeson, 176 banging away with his revolver at him, but, so far as he could see, without effect.
The mesquite bush was not vigorous enough to offer much obstruction to the mustangs, though it was much more objectionable than the open plain. The horses could plunge through it, almost as if it were so much tall grass, besides which it gave something of shelter to the Comanches, who were now fleeing for their lives.
Flinging themselves forward on the necks of their steeds, who were as fleet as those of their pursuers, with the brush swaying on all sides, they became such bad targets that only chance or wonderful skill could tumble them to the earth.
Gleeson was so close to the savage he had singled out as his special target, and his own steed coursed so swiftly through the bush, that it looked as if he would down his man. The fugitive was hardly visible, as he stretched forward, not upon his horse’s neck, but along the further side and almost under it. About the only part of his person within reach was his foot, the toes of which were 177 curved over the spine of his animal, and his left arm, which clasped the neck from below.
It was useless, therefore, for the Texan to try any sort of aim, and when he discharged his pistol now and then, until the chambers were emptied, it was with the same hope as before, that by accident one of the missiles would reach home.