Our friends fought on this plain.
They were outnumbered ten to one.
They could not reasonably hope to get the best of such numbers; therefore, they had determined to strike a few sharp, quick blows, fight like furies for about two or three minutes and throw their foe into confusion or terrify them if possible, and then make tracks while they had a chance to save their lives.
Pomp was a perfect battery.
With a revolver in either hand he kept up a constant fire.
Harry Hale, a splendid shot, followed suit.
As we have said, Dwight proved to be a host with his clubbed gun, for he was a man of immense muscular strength, and could handle such a weapon as he wielded.
Our boys rapidly emptied their loaded weapons, and then they thought of making a retreat.
Frank gave the signal for the homeward march by jerking on the whistle-cord of his machine.