"Not on your life," he said. "This is not the time for anything like
that. If we were to get them after us right now we'd last about as long
as a snowball on a hot stove. Wait a while."
While Stella said nothing she was angry clear through. It hurt her like
a blow to have her pony ridden by another.
The Indian, having fastened his blanket on the pony's back to his
satisfaction, sprang upon his back, and began to lash him with a quirt.
"Oh, the brute!" exclaimed Stella. "I hope Magpie throws and kills him
for his cruelty."
Magpie wheeled and bucked under the unusual punishment, and the Indian
continued to beat him.
"I can't stand it any longer," cried Stella, gnashing her pretty, small,
white teeth.
This time she got her rifle to her shoulder, and, before she could be
restrained, had fired a shot. Perhaps Ted knew that the provocation was
great, for he did not interfere this time.
At any rate, the ball flew close enough to knock the hat from the
Indian's head, and cause him to dismount and scurry to the shelter of
the rock wall.
But it caused the greatest excitement in the camp.
The man with the silver mask rushed forward, rapidly scanning the cliff
for whoever had fired the shot.
He did not have long to search, for the smoke hovering over the spot
where Stella was lying on the top of the cliff was advertisement enough.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131