His long rifle leaped to his shoulder as he spoke, and the dark, deadly tube fairly covered the driver’s breast.
Pluck was an admirable thing, but it was laughing at death to stand there covered by that deadly rifle.
For a moment the driver stood irresolute, and then he turned and clambered over the body of one of the fallen horses and leaped into the wagon.
He began throwing out his various articles, and the other drivers were ordered to follow his example.
They obeyed orders, and soon the goods from the interior of the tented wagons formed a heap on the plains.
During this time the mounted guard had been forced to sit carelessly on the backs of their horses, kept at bay by the leveled weapons of the attacking party, the latter keeping partly under cover of the wagons.
“Lively,” ordered the captain. “Tumble them out as quickly as possible, for I want to search through the wagons after you get through.”
“That’s all in mine,” said the driver, who had attempted to brave him, throwing out a large bundle. “The wagon’s clear. I can’t imagine what you want. Are you going to rob us of these goods?”
“Oh no.”
“Then what do you want?”