It was already becoming dusk when they swept down into a little nest of
green trees and grass. It appeared so suddenly, and was such an
unexpected oasis amid that surrounding wilderness, that Hampton gave
vent to a sudden exclamation of delight. But that was all. Instantly
he perceived numerous dark forms leaping from out the shrubbery, and he
wheeled his horses to the left, lashing them into a rapid run. It was
all over in a moment--a sputtering of rifles, a wild medley of cries, a
glimpse of savage figures, and the two were tearing down the rocks, the
din of pursuit dying away behind them. The band were evidently all on
foot, yet Hampton continued to press his mount at a swift pace, taking
turn after turn about the sharp hills, confident that the hard earth
would leave no trace of their passage.
Then suddenly the horse he rode sank like a log, but his tight grip
upon the rein of the other landed him on his feet. Murphy laughed, in
fiendish merriment; but Hampton looked down on the dead horse, noting
the stream of blood oozing out from behind the shoulder. A stray Sioux
bullet had found its mark, but the gallant animal had struggled on
until it dropped lifeless; and the brave man it had borne so long and
so well bent down and stroked tenderly the unconscious head. Then he
shifted the provisions to the back of the other horse, grasped the
loose rein once more in his left hand, and started forward on foot.