"Gwan! Yip! Gwan with you!" urged the lieutenant, trying to squeeze more speed out of the lathered mules.
Captain Booth sat on the cracker-box, watching through the pucker-hole. Had the Indians given up?
"Cap! Quick! Here! Right off to the left!" That was the lieutenant. The captain whirled about; he saw a lone Indian racing close to the fore end of the wagon, aiming an arrow at Lieutenant Hallowell. There was no time to change position for a clear shot.
"Hit him with your whip! Hurry up! Hit him!"
The lieutenant flung the lash sideways, instead of over the mules. The knot of the cracker must have caught the Indian in an eye, for he lost his bow, clapped both hands to his face and scurried away, howling.
"Good shot! Hi! Yip! Betty! Joe! Gwan with you!"
The Indians behind were yelling louder.
"What's the matter, Cap?"
"They're coming again like Sam Hill!"
"All right. Guess we'll make it. Hi! Yip!" And—"Whack! Whack!"