“You’re near enough now!” he shouted, raising the revolver which his right hand clutched, and a click, click at his elbow told him that Gold Feather was about to use the weapon which he had thrust into his hand. “We’ve got twelve loads for you, and twelve wigwams shall be without warriors, by heaven, if you come two paces nearer.”
The determined visage awed the Indians, and several involuntarily shrunk from the muzzles of the weapons which the red-man dreads.
But the outer circle, with wild yells, still crowded their brothers forward, and the renegade’s finger touched the trigger, when a war cry, which palsied many a savage heart, drowned every shout of Apache vengeance.
Tarantulah turned; the red circle broke, and in places disappeared like mist before the sun.
The tramp of hundreds of horses was mingled with war-cries of the most startling nature, and the flaring of torches revealed Pawnees, Ogallahs and Omahas riding like demons of destruction through the village.
“Great heavens!” cried Tom Kyle, as he cut Frontier Shack’s bonds, “what an hour of destruction this is!”
“I never saw its like,” was the reply; “and if we’ve got to die, Tom, let us die like men!”
“We will; but look yonder!”
Shackelford looked, and beheld Charley Shafer and George Long lashed to horses whose bridles were held by a giant Ogallah.