“Whoa!” cried Frank, and pulled up very short. “What’s all this about?”
And at the same instant Dwight made a flying leap from the wagon, and fell on top of half a dozen much-amazed redskins.
He had discarded one pistol for a knife, and now went to work at them with lead and cold steel.
This resulted as might have been foretold, very easily.
In less than a minute every one of the whites were up to their eyes in business, for they couldn’t sit idly by and see Jared get “chawed” up.
Accordingly they sailed in, and struck with a will.
One thing was in their favor; the reds were a little too drunk to see straight, and therefore failed to strike very accurate blows, or to make plumb-center bulls-eye shots.
Barney Shea was astonished, but he was also delighted.
So was Pomp.
They both hailed a fight of any kind with delight, not because they had any particular grudges to pay off, but merely because fighting was a very delightful pastime in their estimation.