“Good fer yer pluck, boy,” rejoined the scout, well pleased. “But there’s some things ye must remember afore ye set out. Ye’ll have hundreds of miles to tramp, right in the midst of Injins, and danger of every description to look out for. I’m used to it, an’ don’t mind bruisin’; you are young, and tender-like.”
“What of that?” broke in the youth, impatiently. “I can learn, and now is as good a time as I shall ever have.”
“There is times,” returned the scout, “where one man can do what three can’t. But it’s oftener three can do more than two; so, if yer in earnest, we’ll call it settled, for I like yer grit right well.”
“Then settled it is,” the young man frankly exclaimed, as he grasped the extended hand of the scout.
As the scout relinquished the hand of the youth, he peered for a moment very earnestly into the gloom before them. Quickly exclaiming:
“Down all of ye!” he raised his rifle and fired.
Following the report of David’s rifle, a wild yell of rage broke from the forest, and half-a-dozen musket-shots followed. No one was injured, as the savages had fired wildly. With a second yell they dashed for the vehicle. As it required the entire skill of Alfred to manage the plunging steeds, he was almost entirely unaware of the state of things behind him.
The scout sprung up as the scattering shots ceased, but he had no time to reload his rifle. Casting it in the bottom of the wagon, he drew a pistol in each hand, and, with a word to the others, turned to meet the foe. Three Indians sprung toward the vehicle upon one side, two of whom succeeded in grasping the sides, while the third, falling beneath the heavy wheels, never knew the result of the conflict. The foremost of the twain received the contents of a pistol full in his face, and fell back, but the second weapon missed fire, and the yelling Indian sprung into the midst of the little party, whirling his hatchet aloft.
Another moment would have seen the last of David, but for his ready tact and skill. Dropping quickly, and springing to one side, he confused the savage, who, with suspended tomahawk, awaited the moment when he might deliver his blow with a sure aim. Without pausing to gratify his foe, the scout gave him a fearful kick, full in the provision basket, which sent him floundering and howling out of the box. As his own coast was now clear, David turned to assist his friends.
They had been equally fortunate.