At that moment to Dick’s horror, the pony which Mary Jackson rode stumbled and fell, sending its rider over its head. But the fair Mary, besides being a splendid horsewoman, was singularly agile and quick in perception. For some time she had anticipated the catastrophe, and, at the first indication of a stumble, leaped from the saddle and actually alighted on her feet some yards ahead. Of course she fell with some violence, but the leap broke her fall and probably saved her neck. She sprang up instantly, and grasping the reins, tried to raise her pony. It was too late. The faithful creature was dead.
Jackson, pulling up, wheeled round and was back at her side instantly. Almost at the same moment Dick Darvall came up, threw the mare almost on her haunches, leaped from the saddle, and ran to Mary. As he did so, the crash of a pistol shot at his ear almost deafened him, and a glance showed him that Jackson had shot his horse, which fell dead close to his daughter’s pony.
“Kill your horse, Dick,” he growled sharply, as he exerted his great strength to the utmost, and dragged the haunches of his own steed close to the head of the other. “It’s our only chance.”
Dick drew his revolver, and aimed at the heart of Black Polly, but for the soul of him he could not pull the trigger.
“No—I won’t!” he cried, grasping the lasso which always hung at the saddle-bow. “Hobble the fore-legs!”
There was such determination in the sailor’s command, that Jackson felt bound to obey. At the same moment Dick bound the horse’s hind-legs. He fully understood what Jackson intended, and the latter was as quick to perceive the seaman’s drift. Seizing the reins, while his friend caught hold of the lasso, Dick cried, “Out o’ the way, Mary!” and with a mighty effort the two men threw the mare on her side.
“First-rate!” cried Jackson, while his companion held down the animal’s head. “It couldn’t have dropped better. Jump inside, Mary, an’ lie down flat behind your pony. Let Mary have the reins, Dick. She knows how to hold its head down without showin’ herself.”
Even while he was speaking, Jackson and Dick leaped into the triangle of horses thus formed, and, crouching low, disappeared from the sight of the savages, who now came on yelling with triumph, for they evidently thought themselves sure of their victims by that time.
“Are ye a good shot, Dick?” asked Jackson, as he gazed sternly at the approaching foe.
“No—abominably bad.”