Shouts of terror were heard, and, as the young woman raised the man with
the silver mask to his feet and helped him walk to the tent, the others
hastily saddled their ponies, and prepared to decamp.
All the while the boys were pumping Winchester balls into them, and
occasionally a horse dropped, or with a yell a man would grasp a leg or
an arm and fall to the ground.
"We've got them going," shouted Ted. "Keep it up until we get them on
the run."
The boys fired their rifles until they got hot, then waited for them to
cool, and resumed firing.
It was like bedlam in the valley, and not one of the men attempted to
retaliate by firing back. They were in a panic of fear.
As soon as one got his horse saddled he dashed away toward the head of
the valley out of the way of those spiteful bullets which sang about
them like enraged hornets.
Not one of them stopped to burden himself with his baggage, nor did they
pay any attention to the stolen cattle.
They were in too much of a hurry to get away safely themselves.
The Indians left their tepees standing, and ran for their lives.
Soon the valley was clear of men. All that remained in sight were the
bunch of cattle, a small band of ponies in a rope corral, and the tepees
and tents.
"I guess we're safe to go down now, and take possession of our own,"
said Ted.
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