The confusion that followed gave the precious moment for action to the whites.
“Now, Tom, be a man, and help us out of this!” cried Shack.
“I’m with you, Shack, now, to the last!” cried Tom. “Take the girls and make at once for the boys on the horses. I’ll revolver every red-skin in the way; so come on!” and forward they all started.
True to his promise, Tom Kyle shot down the Ogallahs guarding the boys, and in a few moments more all were mounted for a desperate dash for the hills, miles away.
Already the cries of the victors were ascending from the field of slaughter; it was wonderful that the Apaches had withstood the avalanche so long, and the shouts of the northern barbarians drove the whites from the scene of their little victory.
Tom Kyle rode a fiery black mustang, and held Mabel Denison before him, while Lina was encircled by the strong arm of Frontier Shack, who rode beside Charley Shafer.
“How did the greasers come to catch you chaps?” he asked, as they dashed over the plain that lay between life and death.
“We waited for you last night until we knew that something terrible had transpired in the village,” was the reply. “Then we thought of rescue, but a thousand feet drove us back to the mountains, but ere we could reach them, the Pawnees came out from their fastnesses, and we fell an easy prey. Not so easily after all,” and the boys’ eyes lit up with pride; “we fought the whole troop for a while, and five empty saddles told the story of the battle.”
And while they conversed as they rode, Tom Kyle and Ned were making their explanations.
Gold Feather thus questioned his brother: