“That is a kind of a cute little dodge,” spoke Crockett. “I never see an Injun do it before.”
Old Dolph nodded and said:
“It’s a favorite trick with the Comanche and the Apache. These Injuns of the plain are ‘horse’ Injuns; and they’re different in their ways from the redskins you meet with in the wooded countries and the mountains. They spend most of their time catching and breaking ponies and learning tricks in riding. There are some fine horsemen on these southwestern plains; but the finest of all are the Comanches.”
THE COMANCHES HAD REMOUNTED
Here the rifles of the Indians spoke. But, if they were excellent horsemen, as the Texan said, they were not good marksmen, for their bullets went wide. Their arrows, however, flew true, and many a feathered shaft struck with a deadly thud into the trunk of a tree behind which stood one of the whites.
A man near Crockett fired, rather excitedly, in return, and the bullet did no more than knock up the dust.
“Take care of your powder,” said Crockett, from behind his tree, but never shifting his eyes from the dry grass where the savages lay behind their horses. “Don’t waste a single charge. Take good aim; and don’t fire until you see the whites of some one’s eyes.”
There was an interval of inaction; the savages were apparently reloading.
“When they have loaded,” said old Dolph, “they’ll take a peep around their ponies to see what things look like over this way. So watch for them.”