“They are coming, Hickok!” exclaimed the captain excitedly, sending his horse away at a swift canter.
Wild Bill saw the fiercely charging cavalcade now plunging down the descent and yelling fiercely.
It was a fearsome sight to those unused to it, and Wild Bill did not blame the captain for being nervous. He rode near enough to the latter to call to him:
“Don’t push your horse too hard at first; hold him in a bit, and when the reds get too near I’ll caution them. Save your horse for later on; also keep your eyes peeled for an ambush ahead.”
Smith’s horse benefited by the advice to his master, and presently Wild Bill’s rifle cracked and one of the pursuers dropped out of the race.
Soon the savages eased up their pace, keeping beyond the range of that unfailing rifle.
“No hurry, cap; just keep going fast enough so they can’t drive by and surround us—but look sharp to the front.”
Five minutes later the captain shouted back at Wild Bill:
“I hear firing ahead—sounds like an army engagement.”
“When we mount the next divide we can see. And say, cap, if it’s your supply train surrounded in the valley beyond, put on all speed and dash straight at the Indian line, shooting and yelling. Ten to one they would be so surprised at this attack from a new quarter that they will forget to shoot till we are inside the line.”