The Gamecock moved rapidly, now that he had made up his mind.
There was another lodge, into whose shadow he got; then he began to crawl round it, intending to get on the other side, where the darkness lay heaviest, and then perhaps make a dash to get safely out of the village.
“I reckon that Gorilla Jake has gone under,” he was thinking, “and that this climate is gittin’ mighty unhealthy fer Tim Benson. It’ll be also plum malarious fer me if I don’t move out of it. A sudden change of base looks mighty good fer my health right now.”
Then he stopped—not his words only, but his motions.
Right before him he saw a blanketed figure hugging the ground.
“Wow! An Injun! Jest when I was gittin’ shet of ’em!”
The “Injun” discovered by him moved with surprising suddenness.
The blanket lifted, and the man under it jumped at him, clutching the Gamecock by the throat before he could get back or get out a weapon.
Betts was a powerful man, and was never known to surrender readily, so he began to put up the best fight he could. He partly broke the strangle hold on his throat, and reached for his knife, gurgling out a panting exclamation at the same time.