“You are going to your death,” snarled Tezra. “We are twenty to six. You have no chance.”
“You and Nepahak will go with us then,” retorted the captain. “You have my answer. Come and take us.”
The discomfited envoy, with a scowl, returned to his companions, and an animated debate ensued.
Tezra and Nepahak, their red fezzes shining brightly in the sun, could be seen moving here and there, evidently urging a course of action to which some of the others objected.
“I’m going to throw a scare into those fellows,” declared the captain. “Don, do you see that tassel at the side of Tezra’s fez?”
“Yes,” replied Don, getting his rifle ready.
“Clip it,” the captain commanded. “I’ll take the button on the fez of Nepahak. Fire when I give the word.”
They took careful aim.
“Fire!”
The shots rang out simultaneously. The button was shorn neatly from Nepahak’s fez, and the tassel fell from the side of the fez of Tezra as though it had been clipped with shears.