The Apaches, who appeared originally to have numbered four, and undoubtedly were a small detachment from Geronimo’s main band, had lost two of their number. This fact not only rendered them murderously vindictive, but exceedingly wary.
By approaching the girl from the side on which Patterson and his horse were standing, they could shield themselves.
The sergeant, unable to make a single defensive move in his weakened condition, saw the Indians and understood their maneuver. The situation brought another groan from his lips.
“I’m liable to prove the death o’ ye,” he muttered. “Cast loose from me an’ hike! There’s a chance yet.”
“No!” cried Dell.
Pulling Silver Heels backward, Dell sought to find an opening for a shot; but the two Apaches moved forward as she moved back, and thus frustrated her plans.
In the midst of the maneuvering, the unexpected happened, taking form in the crack of a rifle from the bushes below the hogback.
One of the two remaining Apaches dropped his rifle and staggered. Again the unseen marksman launched a bullet. This time the second of the two Apaches stiffened in his tracks for a moment, then crumpled to his knees.
The other, without lingering further, whirled about and plunged down the slope and into the chaparral.
The astounded Dell strained her eyes toward the point from which the unexpected shots had come.