The animal fell dead as it stood, and the Indians with a yell charged at the opening, but, as they did so, Hubert slipped a carbine into his brother’s hand, and the two again poured in the deadly fire which had so checked the Indians’ advance.
The continuation of the fire appalled the Indians, and the seven that survived turned and fled.
‘I will load, Hubert,’ Charley said, trying to speak steadily. ‘See to papa at once. Empty one of the water-gourds upon his face and head.’
Hubert looked down with a cold shudder. Neither of the boys had dared to think during that brief fight. They had had many falls before on the soft turf of the Pampas, but no hurt had resulted, and both were more frightened at the insensibility of their father than at the Indian horde, which were so short a distance away, and which would no doubt return in a few minutes in overwhelming force.
Great, then, was Hubert’s delight, when, upon looking round, he saw that Mr. Hardy had raised himself with his arms.
‘What has happened?’ he said in a confused manner.
‘Are you hurt, papa?’ Hubert asked, with tears of joy running down his face; ‘you frightened us both so dreadfully. Please drink a little water, and I will pour a little over your face.’
Mr. Hardy drank some water, and Hubert dashed some more in his face. ‘That will do, Hubert,’ he said with a smile; ‘you will drown me. There, I am all right now. I was stunned, I suppose. There you are,’ and he got up on to his feet; ‘you see I am not hurt. And now, where are the Indians?’
‘There, papa,’ said the boys with pardonable triumph, as they pointed to thirteen dead Indians.
Their father could not speak. He grasped their hands warmly. He saw how great the danger must have been, and how gallantly his boys must have borne themselves.