As he finished speaking, he stepped nearer to the line, and placed himself in an attitude to fire. I now fully comprehended his design. I saw, as he said, that the cord which bound me to the crucifix was all of one piece—a thin thong of raw-hide—lapped not very tightly around my arms, legs, and body. If cut through at any point, it could easily be detached; and, true enough, my horse must be behind the butte, for I could not see him in front. By a quick rush I might succeed in reaching him, before the Indians could intercept me? If so, then indeed might there be a chance of escaping.
Chapter Sixty Five.
A Sharp Shot.
Slender as appeared the prospect of my being freed from my fastenings, by the method proposed, I was not without some faith in Sure-shot being able to cut the thong. His skill in the use of the rifle was notorious even among good marksmen—and his aim believed to be unerring. I had known him to bring down with his bullet a bird upon the wing; and had heard him declare that it was not by the eye but by the mind that he did it. In other words: he meant, that his skill was not mechanical; but that he was guided in the act by some mental operation—which he himself but imperfectly understood. I could believe this the more readily—since Sure-shot was not the only marksman I had known possessed of this peculiar power. A something inexplicable, which may be classed with the mysterious phenomena of clairvoyance and “horse-whispering.”
With such belief in his skill, therefore, I was not without some hope that he might succeed in his design; and, to give him the chance he desired, I made a violent effort, and wrenched my arm downward. It was, to all appearance, a demonstration of my wrath, at what the pseudo-renegade had been saying to me; and it seemed to be thus interpreted by most of the savages who stood around him. The words of Sure-shot, spoken in English, were of course unintelligible to them; but, notwithstanding the inappropriate gestures which he had made use of, the suspicions of one were aroused. This was Red-Hand himself.
“What says he of the yellow scalp-lock to the captive?” inquired the chief in Spanish. “Let him take heed, or he too shall become a shooting-mark for the Arapaho warriors!”
Sure-shot’s reply was characteristic. It was also in broken Spanish, which the ranger had picked up during our campaign, on the Rio Grande. Translated, it ran thus: “I’m only telling him how I’m about to get square with him. Carrambo! great chief! when I was a soldier in the army, yon fellow was my capitano, and gave me a flogging. Believe me, chief, I’m right glad of this opportunity to have revenge on him. That’s what I have been saying to him.”
“Ugh!” grunted the savage, apparently satisfied with the explanation.