Healy shouted and swung his rifle one split second before the Indians stepped into view. Healy had fired as he swung the rifle, and his shot caught the first Indian in the chest. The Sioux screamed and grabbed at the brush to keep from falling.
Dodie, who was still carrying the shotgun, swung her horse and rode swiftly forward, firing first one barrel and then the other. Mabry came in at a dead run, sweeping wide around the rear of the little column to draw fire away from it. Reins upon the pommel, he sat bolt upright in the saddle, shooting fast into the scattered Indians.
Suddenly they were gone. Mabry swung his horse. Healy was on the ground, his arm through the loop of the reins, his rifle ready. “Cover us,” Mabry said as he swept by, and hurriedly he crowded the women over into a shallow dip in the hills away from the ravine.
How many Indians there were, he had no idea.
At least two were down, but he was sure there were more Sioux than had revealed themselves, and that they were in for a fight.
There was no adequate shelter, no place to fort up. Just the hollow dip in the hills that was at least fifty yards across and twice that long. Then he saw an old buffalo wallow.
In a minute he had the three women on the ground in the buffalo wallow and had led the horses to the lowest part, where brush and high grass concealed them a little. Yet he doubted the horses would be killed unless by a stray bullet. The Sioux undoubtedly wanted the horses as much as anything else. Healy came in last and swung down. The surprise attack had failed utterly, largely because of Healy’s alertness. Even Janice had ridden out with an old pistol in her hand.
Mabry glanced at her, but said nothing. Yet he looked at Dodie thoughtfully. “You’ll do to take along.” he said sincerely. “You put some shot into one of them.” Janice was putting the pistol back into its holster. For an instant his eyes met hers and he smiled. “Another minute and you might have killed an Indian,” Mabry said.
“They were attacking us,” she said defensively.
“I know. That’s the way xddis.” There was a long time then of crouching in the sun in the buffalo wallow. Wind stirred the tall grass, lazy white clouds floated against the vast blue of the heavens. The horses stamped and blew.
“They’ve gone,” Janice said.
“No,” Mabry said. “We’ll wait.” A slow hour drew itself by on the canvas of the sky. Mabry’s shoulder was damp where it pressed against the earth.
Three women, horses, weapons.
It was unlikely the renegade Sioux would abandon the attack so quickly.
There was no rush. There was no warning of sound, only a faint whisper in the grass that was not the wind and a sudden rifle barrel appearing on the ridge of the hollow. Yet Mabry caught the gleam of sunlight even as it appeared. He took a chance and held low against the earth atop that low crest.
He squeezed off his shot even as the rifle muzzle swung to bear on Healy. Mabry could see nothing but that muzzle, but his shot struck with a sullen thud. A Sioux lifted up, blood streaming down his face, then fell face down over the lip of the hollow and lay sprawled out on the grass.
At the same instant, bullets laced the hollow with deadly fire. Healy replied, shooting fast three times.
And then again there was silence.
King Mabry wormed his way out of the buffalo wallow and went up the slope to the dead Sioux. He retrieved his rifle and a small pouch of ammunition, then edged up to the hill. Looking through some grass, he peered over the edge. Before him stretched a brown grassy hillside, empty of life..the sun was bright and warm. The grass waved idly in the light wind, and as far away as the distant line of Nowood Creek, there was nothing. He lay perfectly still, watching. His eyes searched the ground to left and right. Then, rolling over, he drew back a little and looked all around. He saw nothing. Yet the Indians were there. He knew they were there. And with each moment of delay, somewhere Barker was drawing nearer. In the buffalo wallow, almost concealed from where he lay, were the others. And they had been too lucky. Too beautifully, perfectly lucky. Since the killing of Guilford and his own comparatively minor wounds, they had come through unscathed, aided by their elusive action and the weather.
Yet every hour increased the odds against them. The law of averages would not let them escape forever, and steadily the odds piled up.
Despite the warmth of the sun, the ground was cold.
It ate into the hide, into the flesh and bone. It had lain under snow too long, was frozen deep, and the light air of the chinook could not touch the solid cold of the earth beneath them. Yet he waited, knowing well the patience of the Indian. An advantage, of course, was that these renegades were mostly young men, fiercely proud and resentful of the white man and eager to prove themselves as warriors.
Dangerous as they might be, they were not so dangerous as seasoned warriors.
For a long time he saw nothing at all, then a faint movement. He lay still, watching, and he saw it again. They were coming up the slope, perhaps a dozen Indians. Yet this would not be the only attack.
He slid back away from the rim and ran down the slope into the hollow. Quickly he explained. From the east attack was impractical because of the bareness of the ground. The major attack would come from the bunch he had seen, but without doubt there would be a feint toward the horses from the other side. “You stay with the horses,” he told Janice. “Use your gun if they come at you. Tom,” he turned on Healy, “you go up that slope. I doubt if you’ll find more than two or three. Dodie will bring her shotgun and come with me.” Dodie took six shotgun shells from her pockets and put them on the ground near her. She looked white and strained, but determined. He wait[*thorngg’d, his Winchester lying in the grass. Each of them had found a little hollow that offered protection.
“Remember,” he said, “when they attack from the other side, don’t look around! We’ll have to trust to Tom to stop them. The moment you take in looking could be the one chance we’ll get to stop them.
And you’re shooting downhill, so aim at their knees.” The minutes ticked by. There was no longer movement in the bottom. Mabry knew the Indians were moving up the slope in the grass, moving with the movement of the grass by the wind.
Suddenly a chorus of shrill yells rang out, then a shot, instantly followed by other shots.
Mabry was banking on the Sioux’s believing he was still in the buffalo wallow. And he gambled right.
Suddenly, with the sound of shooting, they came up and ran forward.
Dodie’s shotgun lifted. “Hold it,” he said quietly. “Let them come close.” They came on, trotting easily, confidently. They expected no trouble until they broke over the ridge.
Mabry drew a deep breath and lifted his rifle.
Behind them there was shooting now, intermittent fire.
Healy was alive, then, and busy.
He could see streaks on a Sioux’s body, and smudges of earth. The range was point-blank.
He fired.
His bullet was aimed right at the Indian’s beltline, and it seemed to knock the man’s feet from under him. Instantly he moved and shot, hearing the smashing roar of the shotgun. He heard it once, twice, three times. The attack broke and the Indians were running. He fired two more quick shots before they disappeared.
Dodie had reloaded and fired her third shot with scarcely a break. He got to his feet. “All right, let’s get back.” Janice was waiting, her face white and her gun in her hand. As they came up to her and to the horses, Mabry saw her looking up the opposite slope.
Tom Healy lay there, unmoving.
Mabry stepped into the black’s saddle and trotted the horse up the slope. As he swung down beside Healy, the Irishman looked up. His face was white and sick-looking, but he was uninjured. He got up slowly, stared wide-eyed at Mabry, and said, “Let’s move, shall we?” “Sure,” Mabry said. “Get Maggie in the saddle.” Tom Healy walked away down the hill and Mabry waited for a moment, watching him go. Then he walked the few steps to the crest. Two Indians lay sprawled on the grassy slope. One of them was crawling away, dragging a broken leg. The other wasn’t going to crawl anywhere again.