The chief, Red Buffalo, was trying hard to get at the old hunter, and the latter nothing loth, was not trying to keep out of his way. At length the two came together, and the old hunter decided that then and there he would put an end to Red Buffalo, even though he was doomed to die the next moment.
Both carried knives, and as they came together, they raised them to strike. The Indian chief had mingled a great deal with the whites, and had learned many of their customs.
Among others, he had learned how to use a knife in quite a skillful manner, and now the hunter saw that he had no mean antagonist to deal with. Blow after blow followed in quick succession, and the others all stopped fighting to witness the struggle between the two leaders.
The Indian chief knew the power of his enemy’s arm, and he took care not to get within reach of it.
If the hunter ever clasped him in his arms, he would crush the life out of him, as easily as a grizzly bear.
Red Buffalo had, many a time heard of the great strength of the renowned Hunter Hercules, and he had seen some of his exploits himself, therefore he was pretty well acquainted with the latter’s mode of squeezing his enemy to death.
The chief thought that he was a match for the hunter with his knife, but soon the other whites saw that their comrade was just fooling with the Comanche.
Clash, went the knives against each other. Steel hit upon steel, and as if he was being beaten, the hunter went back a little.
He guided his horse with his knees, and the intelligent animal knew just which way its master wished it to go.
The chief, thinking that he was about to be the victor, gave a yell of triumph, and pressed his enemy more closely.