As we have before remarked, they were good ones; but the Indians soon
proved that they were equally well if not better mounted.
"It'll be a hard run," said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking
furtively over his shoulder. "The varmints are mounted on wild
horses--leastways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can
throw the lasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the
badger-holes, Dick.--Hold in a bit, Henri; yer nag don't need drivin';
a foot in a hole just now would cost us our scalps. Keep down by the
creek, lads."
"Ha! how dey yell," said Henri in a savage tone, looking back, and
shaking his rifle at them, an act that caused them to yell more
fiercely than ever. "Dis old pack-hoss give me moche trobel."
The pace was now tremendous. Pursuers and pursued rose and sank on the
prairie billows as they swept along, till they came to what is termed
a "dividing ridge," which is a cross wave, as it were, that cuts the
others in two, thus forming a continuous level. Here they advanced
more easily; but the advantage was equally shared with their pursuers,
who continued the headlong pursuit with occasional yells, which served
to show the fugitives that they at least did not gain ground.
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