Into the hardened frame of the college athlete he felt the steel of “I must win” creeping.
He watched the oncoming yelling horde and measured with trained eye their proportional gain.
He glanced at the fair one, who was riding so nobly, and then he saw red. His nerves became like piano wires and his muscles like bands of steel.
Presently he urged his horse forward until nearly neck and neck with that of his bride. He reached over and touched her soft, white hand and looked into her eyes.
“Ride, Dottie! For Heaven’s sake ride, and let nothing stir you from the saddle! Don’t spare the horse! Don’t be alarmed if they begin to shoot, and don’t look back, whatever you do! Remember, Dot; don’t look back! I am going to stop some of their ponies.”
Again he dropped back and watched their pursuers.
Now the savages were trying their rifles, but the distance was yet too great.
He allowed Dot to gain rapidly on him, and then suddenly pulling his horse to a dead stand, he wheeled and threw his carbine to his shoulder.
As the first cartridge exploded a pony leaped sidewise and fell headlong. Its rider rolled over and over, trampled upon by those bounding after.
Again the carbine spoke and a red man threw up his arms and plunged from the back of his pony.