'Yas; give 'em such a skear that they won't be able to git over it ag'in in all thar lives.'
There is some fun in chasing a foe, when you know that he is really afraid of you, and will keep running without any thought of turning at bay, and the dwarf put the steam man to the very highest notch of speed that was safe, even at the slight risk of throwing both the occupants out.
The prairie was harder and nearer level than any over which they had passed since starting, so that nothing was in the way of preventing the richest kind of sport.
'Are we gaining?' inquired Johnny, his eyes glowing with excitement.
'Gaining? Thar never was a red-skin that had such a chase in all the world. Ef they don't git out the way mighty soon, we'll run over 'em all.'
They were, in truth, rapidly overhauling the red-skins, who were about as much terrified as it was possible for a mortal to be, and still live.
To increase their fears, the boy kept up a constant shrieking of his whistle. If there had been any other contrivance or means at his command, it is possible the red-skins would have tumbled off their horses and died; for they were bearing almost all the fright, terror and horror that can possibly be concentrated into a single person.
Finding there was no escape by means of the speed of their horses, the Indians sensibly did what the trapper had prophesied they would do at first.
They 'scattered,' all diverging over the prairie. As it was impossible for the steam man to overtake all of these, of course, this expedient secured the safety of the majority.
Neither Baldy nor the boy were disposed to give up the sport in this manner; so, they singled out a single 'noble red-man,' who was pursuing nearly the same direction as they were, and they headed straight for him.