Finally they
appeared on the butte from where he had looked back and saw them
following him. For a long time they sat there scouring the country
before them in hopes that they might see some signs of their stolen
horses. Nothing could they see. Had they but known, their horses
were but a few hundred yards from them, but the thick timber
securely hid them from view. Finally one of them arose and pointed
to the timber. Then leaving his horse in charge of his friend, he
descended the butte and followed the trail of the drove to where
they had entered the timber. Little did he think that he was
standing on the brink of eternity. The young man hiding not more
than a hundred yards from him could have shot him there where he
stood, but wanting to play fair, he stepped into sight. When he
did, the enemy took quick aim and fired. He was too hasty. Had he
taken more careful aim he might have killed our young friend, but
his bullet whizzed harmlessly over the young man's head and buried
itself in a tree. The young man took good aim and fired. The
enemy threw up both hands and fell forward on his face. The other
one on the hill, seeing his friend killed, hastily mounted his
horse and leading his friend's horse, made rapidly off down the
butte in the direction from whence he had come. Waiting for some
time to be sure the one who was alive did not come up and take a
shot at him, he finally advanced upon the fallen enemy and securing
his gun, ammunition and scalp, went to his horse and drove the herd
on through the woods and crossing a long flat prairie, ascended a
long chain of hills and sat looking back along his trail in search
of any of the enemy who might continue to follow him.
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