“Now good-by Pawnee Loup,” said White Lasso, waving his hand toward the river. “We ride to the Sioux, and with them we’ll hunt the buffalo, and fight the Pawnee if he comes for White Lasso and his friends.”
Quickly, then, the mustangs’ heads were turned toward the north, but before the spurs touched the scarred rowels, a pistol cracked and the Indian who held Charley Shafer groaned and dropped to the ground!
The boy still retained his seat, and as the horses started forward, a slender form sprung from the grass, and threw herself before the horse’s hoofs. A hand clutched the bridle, and the flash of powder drove the animal back upon his haunches. Then, before he could recover, his rider was jerked to the ground, and the hand released the bridle.
White Lasso and Wolf Eyes did not pause; but the chief turned and sent a bullet after the Pawnee girl, who darted forward as the weapon cracked.
She stooped and snatched her rifle from the grass.
“Don’t, girl, you may shoot Mabel!”
Charley Shafer’s hands griped Winnesaw’s arm; but he could not prevent the shot.
A wild cry came back over the prairie, and in a ray of moonlight which shot through a break in the cloud wall, they saw two forms fall from a horse.
The remaining horseman dashed on.
The young twain rushed forward.