“And you have no right to flog him, whether on this side or the other—no more than you have to flog me.”
“Ho, ho! That might be done, too,” said Spence, in a sneering tone, that set my blood in a boil.
“Not so easily,” I cried, leaping from the old horse, and running forward upon the ground.
My right arm was still sound. Apprehensive of an awkward affair, I had borrowed old Hickman’s pistol, and I held it in my hand.
“Now, gentlemen,” said I, taking my stand beside the captive, “go on with the flogging; but take my word for it, I shall send a bullet through the first who strikes!”
Though they were but boys, all three were armed with knife and pistol, as was the custom of the time. Of the three, Spence seemed most inclined to carry out his threat; but he and Williams saw that Ringgold, their leader, had already backed out, for the latter had something to lose, which his companions had not. Besides, he had other thoughts, as well as fears for his personal safety.
The result was, that all three, after remonstrating with me for my uncalled-for interference in a quarrel that did not concern me, made an angry and somewhat awkward exit from the scene.
The young Indian was soon released from his unpleasant situation. He uttered few words, but his looks amply expressed his gratitude. As he pressed my hand at parting, he said:
“Come to the other side to hunt whenever you please—no Indian will harm you—in the land of the red men you will be welcome.”