“Arroyo bends ter the right jest thar, an’ every one o’ them red devils is a-crawlin’ round ter sneak in ter us. Call the men hyar an’ giv’ ’em a volley when they come in sight. We kin pick off the lot.”
The men were called just in time. Just as the savages rounded the bend and arrived in full view each man chose a savage and all fired simultaneously. They were all good shots, and the effect was marked.
Five of the seven Apaches threw up their arms and with loud cries reeled and fell dead. The other two went back into the arroyo like rabbits.
“Well done!” cried Jack. “Hallo! look out—there comes Red-Knife. Pull your revolvers and don’t shoot too quick. Get under cover lively now.”
They rushed down the hill again, and crept behind the wagons. Red-Knife had seen the fatal volley and defeat of his men and was frenzied with rage. At the head of the whooping, screeching pack he rode, intent upon a sudden charge while they were exposed.
“Load your guns, men!” cried Jack. “Don’t be in a hurry—there’s plenty of time. Hurrah! we are the cocks of the walk, the men that can’t be beat.”
The two parties were equally matched now, the savages only numbering one more than the whites. But this did not deter Red-Knife from making a charge. He had lived long with the whites and had partially avoided his savage style of warfare for that of the white men.
On the yelling pack dashed, screaming hideously and rending the air with their shrill whoops. The men behind the wagons lay quiet, and having all reloaded, sighted across their long rifles, coolly. Now that they were staring dread danger in the face, the cook, Kit Duncan, was cool and determined, having thrown aside the nervous apprehension with which he had been afflicted at the approach of the savages. He had killed his man, too, in the arroyo, and Jack regained confidence in him.
Suddenly the approaching pack divided, part going to the right, and part to the left, swerving by, beyond sure rifle aim. Never apparently noticing their enemies, they rode on at a keen run until they had half completed the circuit of the camp.
“By thunder!” shouted Simpson. “Climb inter the wagons, boys—they air goin’ ter fire criss-cross.”