He seized the reins, gave them a peculiar twitch, and the horse reared upon his hind legs.
Pomp yelled at him, and the animal began striking viciously with his iron-shod hoofs.
His heavy blows knocked men from their saddle, and caused other horses to leap away in fear.
Pomp kept yelling at him and twitching the reins, and the horse continued striking in a ferocious manner.
Hale and Barney had leaped from the body of the wagon to the ground.
Here they kept dancing about like two uneasy hornets, and banging away right and left.
A bullet raised the skin on Barney Shea’s arm, and the Irishman’s carbine fell from his hand.
One of the horsemen charged down upon him, a huge bowie flashing in his hand.
Frank Reade had rolled fairly under the bottom of his wagon.
His little revolver, made by himself, and as true as a die, was peeping out from his belt, and as the outlaw dashed down upon the Irishman, the weapon gleamed in Frank’s hand.