“If our horses had been left we might escape now,” said May, whose mind was ever busy in studying how to get away from her captors.
The wily chief had had all the horses taken out of reach of both the captives and his enemies, excepting only those which he and his warriors rode as they went down to fight.
The battle soon commenced.
The Utes, forming a scattered line as they went nearer to where the Snakes were massed to receive them, closed but little more when within rifle shot; but adopted the usual plan of circling around at a gallop and picking off an enemy at every chance.
The Snakes soon met this maneuver by extending their lines and charging here and there till the mêlée became so universal that the girls—now anxious witnesses of the battle—could hardly tell one band from the other, or know which was victorious.
All they could see was bands of mounted Indians whirling here and there, striking and firing at one another in terrible confusion. Clouds of dust rose constantly as they rode over some dry and sterile piece of ground.
The braves who guarded them, in spite of the exciting nature of the fight, stood stolid and calm at the posts assigned to them in front of the girls, for the rear was a wall of solid rock. So far as the expression on their faces went, it seemed as if it mattered nothing to them how the fight went.
May would have questioned them if she could have done so, for she thought that their experienced eyes told them which side was so far victorious, but unfortunately she could not speak their language.
Suddenly one of the braves turned, and his face showed anxiety. He seemed to have heard something to alarm him, for his eyes ranged back to the rocks in their rear.
Almost at the same instant a sharp volley from unseen riflemen came rattling from the back, and the four braves were stretched out dead on the ground.