Old Nick brought her to the ground again by a single dexterous movement of the reins. He recognized his comrades in a flash, but he did not pause to exchange greetings. He merely gasped out the one word:
“Injuns!”
As he said this, Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill saw, coming toward them through the darkness, half a dozen figures on horseback.
Silhouetted against the horizon of the prairie, they could see that the figures were those of Indians, for their feathers and scalp locks were plainly visible against the light of the stars.
As the Indians came up they were met with a volley from the scouts, and three of them reeled in their saddles and fell to the ground.
Buffalo Bill and his companions were not accustomed to miss their aim.
The remaining Indians drew rein sharply, and gazed in blank astonishment at their fallen comrades.
They had been chasing only one man, and suddenly they were brought face to face with three magnificent marksmen.
As they sat on their horses, hesitating what course to pursue, the rifles spoke again, and their hesitation was solved for them.