Crack, went the rifle of the young hunter, and obeying the sharp and decisive summons, the Indian nearest Red Buffalo started on his way to the red-man’s “happy hunting-grounds.”
This was quick work, but the rest of the Indians did not hang back. The hunter’s rifle was empty now, and they must give him no time to load up. They did not know that Chauncy had not the least idea of loading up his gun.
Crack, crack, went the only revolver Chauncy had with him, the other being in the holster at his saddle-bow.
Again the deadly revolver sounded and still another Indian threw up his hands and fell from the back of his horse.
Chauncy was making deadly work among the foe with his single revolver. At length it was empty, and the Indians all around him on foot, they having thrown themselves from their horses.
With his discharged revolver, Chauncy gave one of the red villains a hard blow in the stomach and then he had to defend himself. Bravely and manfully did he fight against the crowd of Indians, but with all his courage he knew that there was no chance of escape. At length he was overpowered by numbers, thrown down and his hands bound behind him. His knife was red with the blood of several of the Comanches, and the wounded ones cast glances of hatred at him as their movements caused their cuts to hurt.
The Comanches then looked round upon the scene.
Five men were dead, while others were wounded more or less, and as they wanted to get away from this spot as soon as possible, the dead were buried, and then mounting Chauncy on one of the slain warriors’ horses, the whole band set off.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TWO WIZARDS.
Chauncy swept the prairie with his eyes in the direction the Donna had gone, but she was not in sight. A feeling of joy went through him, for he knew that she had escaped.