Charley Shafer could have shouted at his victory, but he was still in the midst of great perils, and he realized his situation.
Still with the strength born of desperation he “see-sawed” on the bit, each moment making the iron-gray more frantic than ever.
He did not look backward for the Pawnees; he feared that a backward glance, like that of Lot’s wife, might prove his destruction, and he was bent on conquering the trapper’s runaway.
Tecumseh tried to regain his position at the head of the band, but failed, and at last he found himself quite a distance in the rear. Foam now completely covered his fiery body, and he seemed more a white horse than a gray one.
On, on, he pushed with splendid resolution, and so intent was his rider in the work of conquering, that he did not hear the hoofs that crushed the new-born grass in his rear.
But Tecumseh heard the sounds, and put forth every effort of strength.
“What ails the bridle?” suddenly cried the young Ohioan, discovering that the reins had suddenly lengthened. “By my heart! the bit is out of his mouth!”
He spoke truly; his eye had not deceived him.
Now the steed was ungovernable again, and the boy dropping the reins fell forward on Tecumseh’s neck, too weak to sit upright.
Where were the Indians now? He turned, but could not see clearly. A dazzling mist floated before his eyes, and the air to him suddenly became dense.