The last question was caused by the chief's falling backward and dropping to the ground, while his horse made straight for our camp. Like Stanaford, I was bound to take his scalp, and ran to get it. This was, nevertheless, close work. We had been right in imagining the fallen brave to be a chief. Almost as soon as he had dropped, and I was in clear view, some dozen or more of the red-skins made a rush for me.
Had they been a moment speedier, I should have exchanged my own hair for that I had taken.
The loss of their chief seemed to have excited them almost to madness. Every few minutes they would dash at us, shaking their clinched hands, brandishing their rifles, and yelling out taunts, which we were unable to comprehend, save from the beastly gestures with which they were accompanied. Their latter experience of our skill as marksmen, nevertheless, prevented them from getting within range of our guns.
The afternoon was rapidly passing away, when Arnold called my attention to some dust in the east. It was moving rapidly down the side of a small hill.
"White help!" he curtly said.
"Please Heaven! it may be, Hank!" I answered, as I watched the approaching cloud intently.
In a few moments, we were able to detect the forms of some fourteen horsemen coming straight toward us, at a rapid rate.
"They are a mere flea-bite for the red devils," he exclaimed, querulously. "However, we may make a better show, with them to help us."
The whole of our companions were now watching them, as also were the Indians, who commenced a movement, from our right and left, towards the approaching party.