He knew that such an action would but too surely betray his identity, and that a cry would be raised and immediate pursuit instituted. Pursuit, too, upon horseback; fleet though he undeniably was, and long of wind, he could not hope to cope successfully with the fiery, half-wild mustangs, especially when bestrode by those rare jockeys, the Prairie Indians.
Maxwell resolved upon a bold course of action; or rather fell back upon the old plan. Its success mainly depended upon one thing.
How long had the red-skins been watching him? Had they observed his leaving the interior of the corral? If so, then his fate was indubitably sealed.
But had they only noted him recently—as he hoped; for he had been careful to keep low down within the dense shadow of the bank of the river, where the moon’s rays could not reach him—he thought he might yet succeed in deceiving them. And upon this hope he acted.
With one glance behind him, at the dim, phantom-like figures that were still stealthily approaching him, Maxwell emerged from the hollow, upon the side toward the corral, and, upon his hands and knees, began crawling quite rapidly toward the wagon-train. Then he dropped down quite flat upon his face, casting a glance behind him as he did so.
The red-skins in pursuit had just crossed the ditch, and were crawling after him. They had gained rapidly in the last few minutes, and their dress, as well as weapons, could now quite plainly be seen.
Then Tom leveled his revolver toward the corral, taking care to aim above it, so that the bullet could by no possibility inflict harm upon any of his friends, he fired. Almost like an echo, there came a return shot from the train, and Tom fairly chuckled with delight.
This was just what he had hoped for, though he feared Calhoun would not risk a shot, knowing the circumstances, at least in part. But now, nothing could be better calculated to allay any suspicions the red-skins behind him might have entertained.
Tom glanced backward, beneath one arm. To his delight, he saw that the Indians had paused, and were now closely hugging the ground, evidently trying to lessen the mark their bodies presented, lest a bullet from the corral should bury itself beneath their precious hides.
“Ef that much works so well, reckon I’ll go a leetle furder ’th it, though it ’d jist be partic’lar ge-mineezers ef some o’ the boys should shoot me fer a red. But I reckon the boss ’ll look out fer that. Anyhow, I must shake off them pesky imps. Let ary one o’ them git a glimpse o’ my mug, an’ it’ll be all night ’th this coon, shore!” muttered the old guide, as he gradually worked himself still nearer the corral.