Tom Kyle stretched his limbs, and uttered a low ejaculation when he found himself free.
“Now show us the Pawnee plan.”
“I will, God helping me,” said the renegade, with determination. “Your rifle.”
Frontier Shack did not hesitate, but tossed Tom Kyle his rifle.
With a “Now,” which sounded terribly triumphant at that perilous hour, the fugitive king rose in his stirrups and surveyed the approaching herd, whose glaring eyes and long red tongues were now distinctly visible.
What would the renegade do?
The spectators held their breath and fastened their eyes on him.
He seemed to be looking for a break in the dark-brown ranks.
Suddenly his eyes lit up with a strange, fierce fire, and Frontier Shack, who also had risen in his stirrups with a revolver clutched in either hand, saw what had rejoiced the renegade.
The buffaloes had extended their ranks until the files were not dangerously deep, and two huge bulls, who were fighting most furiously, promised to divide the herd.