Only one revolver was left, and it had been emptied. But the captain was given no pause, to load.
"I'm hit again, Cap!" the lieutenant called.
"Whereabouts now!"
"In the hand."
An arrow was fastened to the base of the thumb of his whip hand. Its shaft waggled, but its head remained firm.
"Shall I pull it out?"
"No. Can't stop. Hi! Gwan! Yip! Yip with you!"
The lieutenant's hand did not falter, as he plied the whip. Presently the arrow flopped free and was gone, taking some of the flesh with it.
The Indians seemed to have shot most of their arrows, but were not done. Now one of them rode to the head of the left mule and commenced poking with his lance, to force the team into the hedge of tall, stiff sunflowers that lined the trail.
Lieutenant Hallowell hauled with all his might on the rein; Captain Booth climbed forward to the step opposite the Indian and kicked the nearest mule. He threw his revolver. It did not strike the Indian, but it struck the pony, and the pony ran away.