"I don't know yet. That depends upon circumstances. I'm not going to let them have it all their own way while I've got a pony under me. We may get help any minute, too, so the longer we can put off a clash the better it will be for us."
"Who you mean—Santa Claus?"
"Yes."
"They're closing in now," said Stacy.
"Take your hands away from my waist."
"But I'll fall off, Tad."
"Slip one hand through under my belt and take hold of the cantle with the other. Sit as low as you can so as not to get in my way."
Stacy obeyed his companion's directions without further comment, but he was all curiosity to know what was going to happen next.
The Indians were drawing nearer every second now. The boys could see the expressions on their evil faces, intensified by the streaks of yellow and red paint.
"They look as though they'd stuck their heads in a paint pail," was Chunky's muttered comment.