“Here’s a chance for Left-over,” he called. “We’re going to have visitors!”
“Injuns!” said Billy quickly, shading his eyes and peering. They all peered—Davy, who was driving, from the wagon seat.
A band of horsemen were rapidly approaching across the level sandy plain. By their figures and the way they rode Indians they certainly were; some twenty of them. Left-over bellowed wildly.
“I see ’em!” he cried. “I see ’em! Gimme a gun! Get behind the wagon! Aren’t you going to stop? Going to let us all be scalped?”
“Quit your yawp!” bade Hi, roughly. “Drive along, Davy. Handle your guns, boys, so they’ll know we’re ready. Don’t let them think we’re afraid. I’ll tend to them at the proper time.”
Minding these instructions of Captain Hi, the Hee-Haw outfit proceeded as if intent on their own business. Left-over whimpered and showed a strong disposition to climb into the rear of the wagon, but Billy said sternly:
“None of that! You stay outside. Thought you were an Injun-fighter.”
“I am,” piped Left-over. “I was going to protect the wagon.”
“Huh!” grunted Billy.
Up on the seat, in plain sight, driving the mules, Davy felt rather alone and exposed; but he drove steadily. The mules were pricking their long ears and showing uneasiness.