There was no further movement on the part of their besiegers, but Buck
and Sam knew full well that the Indians were far from giving up their
attack. To them the respite was more ominous than an active sally, for
they knew that the braves were hatching some scheme for their
destruction.
"They're foxy as they make 'em," opined Sam grimly; "the critters are
cookin' up some deep plan to circumvent us, or I'm a Dutchman. Jest wait
an' see if they ain't."
"If anybody thinks them red devils ain't watching us closer than a cat
watches a mouse," said Buck, "I'll just prove it to 'em mighty pronto."
He snatched his sombrero from his head, and placing it on the muzzle of
the guard's rifle, held the piece up in the air so that the hat projected
above the edge of the over-turned coach. Instantly a sharp fusillade broke
from the Indian's position, and one bullet, better aimed than the
majority, passed clean through the sombrero, whirling it off the rifle.
"I reckon that shows they ain't asleep," remarked Buck grimly; "ef they
don't get our scalps it won't be from lack o' tryin'.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171