"I reckon thet'll do now," said Rattleshag, as he raised his long rifle to his shoulder, and aimed at one of the savages. "Don't you fire, Ethan, till I've done."
He discharged his piece, and fully sustained his reputation as a dead shot, for the foremost of the Indians dropped, and was carried down the stream by the current.
CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION.
"Don't you fire, Ethan," repeated the trapper, as the enthusiastic boy raised his gun. "No need o' killin' no more on 'em."
The remaining Indians in the water had discovered their mistake, and were making towards the opposite shore with all possible haste. They had not expected such a reception, and appeared to be glad to escape with no greater loss.
"Ho, ho, ho!" shouted other Indians on the shore.
"We are gittin' into a bad scrape," said Ethan, dissatisfied because Rattleshag had prevented him from firing at the savages. "There's more 'n a million on 'em over thar."
"Them's Lean B'ar's Injins that's yellin'. Don't you see 'em? They was nigh enough to hear the shootin' and the yellin', and they've kim back to keep them redskins from hurtin' on us—don't you see?" added Rattleshag, pointing over at the three mounted savages who had just dashed up to the bank on the other side of the stream.