But when the Indian suddenly sprang up into the air to avoid stepping on the object that lay there, Tad knew that further secrecy was useless. The redskin had jumped right over him, dropping Chunky's rifle as he leaped. The gun fell on the Pony Rider boy and for a second hindered his movements.
But Tad was up like a flash, while the Indian whirled no less quickly, knife unsheathed, ready for battle.
This was where Tad's tent stake came in handy. Without it he would have been in a much more serious fix. It was bad enough as it was.
Without an instant's hesitation the lad brought the stake down on the wrist of the hand that held the knife. The knife fell to the ground, while the Indian, with a half-suppressed howl, sprang at the slender lad. Though the fellow's wrist was well-nigh useless at that moment, he was as full of fight as ever.
Tad stepped nimbly aside and tried to trip his adversary, but the Indian was too sharp to be caught that way.
"If he ever gets those arms around me I'm a goner," thought Tad, taking mental measure of his antagonist.
Suddenly the Indian swooped down, making a grab for the rifle that he had dropped.
As the redskin stooped, Tad hit him a wallop on the head with the tent stake. It must have made the savage see a shower of stars.
At least, it staggered him so he was glad to let the weapon remain where it was. For a few seconds the air was full of flying legs and arms, during which the boy landed three times on the red man, being himself unhurt.
Then the Indian succeeded in rushing into a clinch, and Tad found himself gripped in those arms of steel. Wriggle and twist as he would he could not free himself from their embrace. His adversary, on the other hand, found himself fully occupied in holding on to his slippery young antagonist, giving him neither time nor opportunity effectually to dispose of the slender lad.