“Take care of Aunt ‘Liza,” she called back, as she dashed down the road.
“Now get your guns, boys, and let’s make ready. Pete, you and Bill take care o’ the house; this boy and I will guard the stables. If you sight Injuns, give ’em hell.”
The men took their stations as directed.
For half an hour or more the Colonel and Fred wailed, straining their eyes in an effort to see the brush forms take the shape of prowling Injuns, but no signs of such life appeared. The old Colonel began to wonder whether he had not been made the butt of an Injun scare, when suddenly his sharp eye caught sight of a dark object worming through the brush toward the corral. He cocked his rifle carefully. The creeping object checked dead still at the sound; then it began to crawl again. And now another form came into view. The Colonel waited till the skulking savage was within a few rods of the bars, then he took aim and fired.
The Indian, fatally struck, gave a piteous death yell, staggered half up, and pitched forward. The cry brought half a dozen forms out of the brush. Fred fired at one of them as they fled for the thick willows.
This shock at their plot all but created a panic among the band. Only their fury to avenge their comrade, and the desperate determination of Bud Nixon to wreak vengeance on his foes, held them to their plan. At another time the White Injun would have played the skulking coward, but now his blood was up, and he was reckless of the end.
To divert attention, part of the band under Flying Arrow was sent to attack the house. The savages set up a fearful yelling and shouting as they circled about it. The ruse was successful, so far as uncovering the corral was concerned. Colonel Morgan and Fred, concluding that the house was in danger, hurried to defend it while Nixon struck for the corral to capture the horses. The rifles were cracking and the savages yelling when a wild shout broke through the din, and close upon it came the thumping hoofs of the Bar B horses.
Hearing that challenging shout, the savages about the house fled again for the willows, leaving Bud and his braves entangled among the stacks and stables. Daylight was just beginning to break.
“There goes a red devil,” yelled Jim, spurring his horse after a dark form, scurrying for the willows.
“There’s another,” shouted Dick, catching sight of Bud Nixon, just emerging from the stable door with the Colonel’s finest saddle horse.