This was fortunate for Ted also.
While it was not an easy matter for Ted to mount while the pony was
wheeling away from him, Ted was well educated in the cavalry drill as
used at West Point, and mounting a running horse was one of the easiest
of the many equestrian tricks with which he was familiar.
When he thought he was far enough away from the Indians not to afford
them too good an aim for his body, he placed his hand on the cantle of
the saddle, gave a smart upward spring, and the impetus of his running
and the pony's speed took him through the air like a bird, and he
settled in the saddle as easily, almost, as if he would have sat down in
a chair.
As he reached the saddle he, for the first time, threw a glance over his
shoulder.
The Indians were in full pursuit, yelling like madmen.
They were led by a young fellow dressed in a yellow buckskin shirt
elaborately beaded, and trimmed with fringe, while on his head was a
bonnet of eagle feathers, which trailed far behind him as he dashed on
far in advance of his followers.
"Here's a chance to stop that chap," said Ted, swinging around in his
saddle and throwing his forty-five over his shoulder.
The six-shooter cracked, and as the smoke floated away Ted saw that his
bullet had gone where he intended it to go.
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