The muzzle of his
rifle rested upon the log beside his pistol, and, with his eye looking
down the sights, he was watching for whatever might come.
A sharp whistle sounded from the wood. At the same instant, three bands
of Lipans galloped from the trees at different points, and converged
upon the little fortress. They were all naked to the waist, and the sun
blazed down upon their painted bodies, lighting up their lean faces and
fierce eyes. They uttered shout after shout, as they advanced, and as
they came closer, bent down behind the shoulders of their ponies or
clung to their sides.
The tremor of the nerves seized Ned again, but it was gone in a moment.
Then a fierce passion turned the blood in his veins to fire. Why were
these savages seeking his life? Why had they hung upon his trail for
days and days? And why had they kept up that silent and invincible siege
so long? Yet he did not forget his earlier resolution to watch for a
good shot, knowing that his life hung upon it. But it was hard to hold
one's fire when the thud of those charging hoofs was coming closer.
The horsemen in front of him were four in number, and the leader who
wore a brilliant feathered headdress, seemed to be a chief. Ned chose
him for his target, but for a few moments the Lipan made his pony bound
from side to side in such a manner that he could not secure a good aim.
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