It may be as well to state here the cause of the smoke-signal having been made. Following the trail of the men on foot, the party had been considerably delayed by Hawksley’s having a fit of apoplexy, in consequence of his deep emotions. As soon as his senses returned, he urged them to lose no time, but to keep on the trail, and when his strength returned, he would follow on after them. They did so, the trail ending at last in their finding the senseless body of a white man, whom they naturally took to be the abductor of Fannie. For this reason they sent up the smoke. Noticing the signal, Hawksley managed to mount his horse and ride to the spot. His disappointment at seeing a stranger was great, and brought on another and more severe fit. While it lasted, and while the attention of all was directed toward him, the outlaw breathed his last. This was the state of affairs when Zeb Ruel came in and told his story. After some discussion, it was decided to go back and take up Ned Campbell’s trail, in hopes that, should he capture the strange rider, the mystery might be elucidated.
This party it was that now confronted the Kiowas, under guidance of the ex-captain of Night Hawks. Mestayer was by no means pleased at the meeting, for he saw that the settlers were nearly equal in numbers to the Kiowas, and he also knew that they were much better armed, each man bearing a rifle and at least one revolver, more generally two of these terrible weapons.
As the Kiowas were nominally at peace with the whites, a collision might and probably would have been avoided, only for one thing. Jack Colton was among the trail-hunters, and he recognized the would-be murderer of his brother.
With a wild cry he plunged spurs rowel-deep into his horse’s flanks and sprung forward, leveling his rifle as he did so. It cracked—one of the savages riding close behind Mestayer, uttered a shrill death-yell, and fell to the ground, dead.
That put an end to all doubt. Sounding his war-cry, Chigilli led the charge, and the next moment the two bodies were mingled together. For several minutes the conflict raged with deadly ferocity, but the superior weapons of the settlers quickly turned the tide in their favor.
Jack Colton had singled out the outlaw guide, and nothing loth, Mestayer gratified his desire, though still feeling the effects of his wounds. Their horses came violently together just as their pistols spoke for the first time.
Rearing, Colton’s horse received the bullet between its eyes and fell, hurling Colton violently to the ground, where he lay, stunned for the moment. Mestayer discharged a second shot at him, but with unsteady aim, and a slight flesh wound was the only result; then he was forced to turn his attention to other foemen.
Chigilli gave the signal to retreat, seeing that he was over-matched. The hills were near at hand, and for them their horses’ heads were turned, in full flight.
So sudden was this movement that the settlers did not comprehend its meaning until the Kiowas had gained full two-score yards the start. But then they dashed on in hot pursuit.
No man living understands better how to extract every ounce of service from a mustang than does a Kiowa, and though riding by far the most jaded horses, they slowly increased their vantage-ground, aided by the fact that the settlers devoted much of their care to pistol practice; at best but an uncertain art while riding a galloping horse.