Part 29 (1/2)
The circle was narrowing, and the Indians were gradually drawing in on them.
Stacy's eyes were growing larger every minute, perhaps more from astonishment than from fear. Then, too, he could not but admire the riding of their pursuers. Even the blankets of the Indians appeared not to be disturbed in the least by their rapid riding, the hors.e.m.e.n sitting a little sideways on the ponies' backs, the reins bunched loosely in their left bands.
”They've got us, Tad.”
”They shan't get us!” retorted Tad stubbornly. ”If they don't use their guns--and I don't believe they will--we'll beat them yet.”
If Stacy was doubtful he did not say so.
”If they get close to us, you be ready to let go of me when I give the word,” cautioned Tad.
”What for? What you going to do?”
”I don't know yet. That depends upon circ.u.mstances. I'm not going to let them have it all their own way while I've got a pony under me. We may get help any minute, too, so the longer we can put off a clash the better it will be for us.”
”Who you mean--Santa Claus?”
”Yes.”
”They're closing in now,” said Stacy.
”Take your hands away from my waist.”
”But I'll fall off, Tad.”
”Slip one hand through under my belt and take hold of the cantle with the other. Sit as low as you can so as not to get in my way.”
Stacy obeyed his companion's directions without further comment, but he was all curiosity to know what was going to happen next.
The Indians were drawing nearer every second now. The boys could see the expressions on their evil faces, intensified by the streaks of yellow and red paint.
”They look as though they'd stuck their heads in a paint pail,” was Chunky's muttered comment.
The blankets fell away from the racing savages, flapped on the rumps of the bobbing ponies for a few seconds and then slipped to the ground.
A rifle was reposing in each man's holster, as Tad observed instantly.
He was thankful to note that the guns were not in the hands of the Indians.
The lad's right hand had dropped carelessly to the saddle horn, the fingers cautiously gathering in the coils of the lariat that hung there. The red men did not appear to have observed his act.
”Lie low!” commanded Tad, scarcely above a whisper.
Stacy settled down slowly so as not to attract attention.
One horseman shot directly across Tad's course, striking the lad's pony full in the face as he did so, and causing the animal to brace himself so suddenly as to nearly unseat both boys.
Tad's rope was in the air in a twinkling.