“Look there, stranger; look there Jack Lion! What do you say to those black spots out there? Are they birds, buffaloes, or Redskins?”
The hunter stood up in his stirrups and took a long steady gaze in the direction Silas pointed, just as a sailor does when he is looking out for an enemy’s cruiser at sea. Suddenly dropping into his saddle, he exclaimed, “Comanches! And they are coming this way.”
“Then they’ll scalp every mother’s son of us,” cried Silas, lashing on his horses.
“Keep together, my men, at all events,” I exclaimed, as my companions began to move on; and away we dashed at a rapid rate.
We had not gone far, however, when, on turning my head, I discovered that we were pursued, and that the strangers were coming up with us. I desired Lion to take another look at them, and to tell me what he thought they were.
“Comanches,” he answered, “Comanches, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Is there any place we can hope to reach where we can defend ourselves better than in the open plain?” I asked.
“None, none that I know of,” was the answer.
“Then let us halt at once, before we have exhausted our strength, and fight it out like men,” said I.