Chapter XI: Muzzle to Muzzle, and Who Will Win?

It was now a very exciting, and yet, on the plains, a common scene, that the sun looked down upon.

First came the four whites, the circus-rider going along as easy and as graceful as if he was trotting around in the ring for the amusement of the spectators. The three others were urging their steeds on with heel and voice, but the wiry little animals were doing their utmost, and could not go any faster than they were going.

The little Frenchman looked very curious, as he bounced up and down on his horse, his umbrella held over the pommel just as the others held their rifles. Not being accustomed to horses, this wild ride came pretty hard on him, and he kept muttering to himself that if he was so happy as to see La Belle France once more, he would never leave her friendly shores.

After the whites came the score of Comanches, racing along in wild confusion, and now and then breaking into a loud yell which was given partly to urge their horses onward, and partly to weaken the nerves of the fugitives.

In this latter, however, they were mistaken. Even the little foreigner showed commendable pluck, and several times he put his hand upon his little revolver, as if to try a shot at the Comanches, but was restrained by Ralph, who told him to save his powder.

The circus-rider could easily have distanced both his comrades and the Comanches, had he been so cowardly as to have wished to do so. This was far from being the state of Barry Le Clare’s feelings.

He was no coward, as his entering the hostile village to save persons who were entire strangers to him proved.

The three mustangs were keeping their distance very well, but the guide knew that soon they would begin to fall off, and he resolved to diminish the number of the Comanches as much as possible before the latter began to gain upon the four whites.

Turning in his saddle, he lifted his rifle to his shoulder.

Monsieur Tierney had seen Ralph discharge his gun while in among the trees, and as he had not seen him load it while he rode, he felt sure that the guide was only trying to scare the Indians.

He could not help smiling at the simple _ruse_, as he deemed the movement of the hunter; but the smile on his face quickly changed to a look of astonishment which was truly ridiculous.

What surprised him was the fact that when the guide pulled the trigger of his rifle, there came a sharp, whip-like crack, that sounded high and clear above the yells of the Comanches and the noise made by the hoofs of the horses.

And what was still more wonderful, one of the pursuing braves seemed to have run against a bullet, for with a shrill shriek of mortal anguish, he threw his arms wildly into the air and fell from his horse to the ground, to rise no more.

Ralph’s bullet had done its work, and done it well, too.

The Comanche would never scalp another enemy; he would never drive his tomahawk into the head of a helpless woman or child again. His fighting days were over.

The little Frenchman wondered greatly how the old hunter could shoot with such deadly effect from the back of a horse that was going at its utmost speed. Afterward, Monsieur Tierney tried the thing himself, but found it a hard job to turn and discharge a gun while going at full speed, and as to taking any aim at all, why the thing was simply impossible with him.

It is really a very difficult and yet useful thing to learn, this shooting so accurately from the back of a horse.

The Indians only yelled a little harder, and urged their horses on a little faster, if that were possible, on having their number diminished by the rifle of the guide.

A good many of them carried guns; in fact, when Red Buffalo picked out this band, he singled out men who, for the most part, owned guns.

Some of these now began to fire, but being poor marksmen, their bullets whistled through the air many feet away from the heads of those they shot at.

A mile had been passed over since Ralph had fired his gun.

Again he turned in his saddle, with his rifle to his shoulder, and again the deadly crack sounded.

The Indians had seen him loading, and were expecting this.

Therefore, when the guide turned around, every one of them disappeared behind the body of his steed.

The crack of the hunter’s rifle sounded _after_ they had disappeared.

Had he fired too late to hit one of the Indians?

His bullet did not touch a red-skin, and yet it did what Ralph had intended it should. The three other whites turned in _their_ saddles as Ralph fired, and when they saw that none of the Comanches were in view they felt sure that his bullet must have been wasted.

But it was not.

Ralph, when he turned to fire, had intended to shoot one of the Comanches, but when he saw them disappear from his sight, he quickly changed his aim, and pointed his rifle at one of the horses.

His finger pressed the trigger, and following the crack came a shrill neigh of agony, and one of the horses dropped suddenly to the earth.

His rider, not expecting this, was not ready to leap off, and he came down with a terrible crack upon the ground.

He did not rise to his feet, for the simple reason that the fall had disjointed his neck, and he was a doomed man.

And now the Indians began gaining upon the four whites.

Foot after foot and yard after yard they came up, and at length Ralph saw that a stand must be made.

He had loaded the rifles of both his comrades who carried them, and in a few disjointed sentences he told them of his plan.

It was an old one, but was the only thing our friends could do, as there was not a tree in sight.

Waiting until they got to a place where, on account of the buffaloes, the prairie-grass for several acres around was very short, the four men suddenly jerked up their horses.

The guide quickly threw himself from the back of his horse on the side opposite to the Indians, and with his rifle in his hands, looked over the back of his animal at the foe.

The three others followed his example, and the Comanches divided and went on both sides of them. Not an Indian was in sight, they having disappeared behind their horses.

At a word from Ralph the four horses were put into a form like a square, and then the whites waited for the attack.

The Indians were not ready to fire when they rode past our friends. Had their rifles been loaded, they would most assuredly have given them a volley, aiming from beneath the necks of their horses. As it was, they rode off a good distance, and then coming together in a group, they sat upright on their horses.

They commenced talking and gesticulating wildly, and Ralph, as he looked at them, gave a chuckle of delight.

“I believe my ole Betsy Jane kin throw a chunk of lead over to them fellers. Anyhow, I’m goin’ ter try it. Jest watch, now,” said he.

His rifle was resting on the back of his mustang, and as he spoke, he took a careful aim along the gleaming barrel.

A puff of white smoke, a sharp crack, and the bullet went like lightning through the air. Ralph had calculated upon the distance and had aimed rather high. His calculation was correct, for one of the Comanches received the fatal bullet in his breast, and so unexpected was it, that he rolled from his horse without the usual death yell.

A few seconds after and a loud yell from the Indians told that at length they had decided upon a plan of action.

They tried the old plan of circling around the four whites with their bodies hidden behind their horses, and gradually edging up closer and closer.

When near enough they began to discharge their guns, and then the guide thought it was time to retaliate.

Barry shot a horse with his rifle, and Ralph picked off the rider before he could hide in the short grass.

The young hunter shot another horse with a ball from his revolver, and his rifle sounded the death-note of the beast’s owner and rider.

This was more than the Indians could stand.

This plan of having their men killed and none of their enemies injured, was too fine a thing in favor of the whites.

Luck, so far, seemed on the side of the whites, and the thing was getting monotonous to the Comanches.

Something must be done, and that at once.