It was as Mr. Hardy said. Keen as had been the watch kept by the Indians, in spite of their belief that no pursuing force could be sent after them, it was some little time before they could get the weary animals on their legs and in motion; and even at the easy canter at which Mr. Hardy approached, he had neared them to within half a mile before they were fairly off. A small party only continued to drive the animals, and the rest of the Indians wheeling sharp round, and uttering a wild war-cry, came back at full gallop towards the whites.
Onset of the Indians.—Page 183.
‘Halt, boys—steady, dismount: take up your positions quietly. Don’t fire till I give you the word. I shall try my rifle first.’
The well-trained horses, accustomed to their masters firing from their backs, stood as steady as if carved in stone, their heads turned inquiringly towards the yelling throng of horsemen who were approaching. Mr. Hardy and the boys had both dismounted, so that the horses were between them and the Indians, the saddles serving as rests for their firearms.
‘Five hundred yards, Charley?’ his father asked quietly.
‘A little over, papa; nearly six, I should say.’
Mr. Hardy waited another ten seconds, and then his rifle cracked; and a yell of astonishment and rage broke from the Indians, as one of their chiefs, conspicuous from an old dragoon helmet, taken probably in some skirmish with the soldiers, fell from his horse.
‘Hurrah!’ Charley cried. ‘Shall we fire now, papa?’
‘No, Charley,’ Mr. Hardy said as he reloaded his rifle; ‘wait till they are four hundred yards off, then fire slowly. Count ten between each shot, and take as steady an aim as possible. Now! Well done, two more of the scoundrels down. Steady, Hubert, you missed that time: there, that’s better.’