Only an hour
and a half more and he would have sent the message and then all the
Indians in the country could go to the demnition bow wows for all he
cared.
Hearing no more shots Denny drew rein for a moment and listened. Not a
sound could be heard, the snow had started to softly fall and the first
faint rays of light on the eastern horizon heralded the approach of a
new-born day. Ah! he had outridden his pursuers. Gently patting his
faithful horse's neck, he once more started swiftly on, and when he was
within a few miles of the line he chanced to glance back and saw that
one lone Indian was following him.
Now it was a case of man against man. In his first flight and running
fight he had fired away all his ammunition save one cartridge. This he
determined to use to settle his pursuer, but not until it was absolutely
necessary; and putting spurs to his already tired horse, he galloped
on.
The Indian was slowly gaining on him and he saw the time for decisive
action was at hand. Ahead of him but one short half mile was that line,
already in the early morning light he could see the poles, and if the
god of battles would only speed his one remaining bullet in the right
direction, his message could be sent in safety and his comrades rescued.
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