ony running
in the deep path made by the ox-drivers in walking alongside of their
teams. Putting his left arm around one of the wagon-bows to prevent his
being jerked out, Booth quietly stuck his revolver through the hole in
the sheet; but before he could pull the trigger, the Indian flopped over
on the off side of his pony, and nothing could be seen of him excepting
one arm around his animal's neck and from the knee to the toes of one
leg. Booth did not wait for him to ride up; he could almost hit the
pony's head with his hand, so close was he to the wagon. Booth struck at
the beast several times, but the Indian kept him right up in his place
by whipping him on the opposite of his neck. Presently the plucky
savage's arm began to move. Booth watched him intently, and saw that he
had fixed an arrow in his bow under the pony's shoulder; just as he was
on the point of letting go the bowstring, with the head of the arrow not
three feet from Booth's breast as he leaned out of the hole, the latter
struck frantically at the weapon, dodged back into the wagon, and up
came the Indian. Whenever Booth looked out, down went the Indian on the
other side of his pony, to rise again in a moment, and Booth, afraid to
risk himself with his head and breast exposed at this game of hide and
seek, drew suddenly back as the Indian went down the third time, and
in a second came up; but this was once too often. Booth had not dodged
completely into the wagon, nor dropped his revolver, and as the Indian
rose he fired.

The savage was naked to the waist; the ball struck him in the left
nipple, the blood spirted out of the wound, his bow and arrows and
lariat, with himself, rolled off the pony, falling heavily on the
ground, and with one convulsive contraction of his legs and an "Ugh!" he
was as dead as a stone.

"I've killed one of 'em!" called out Booth to Hallowell, as he saw his
victim tumble from his pony.

"Bully for you, Cap!" came Hallowell's response as he continued his
shouting, and the blows of that tireless whip fell incessantly on the
backs of the poor mules.

After he had killed the warrior, Booth kept his seat on the cracker
box, watching to see what the Indians were going to do next, when he was
suddenly interrupted by Hallowell's crying out to him: "Off to the right
again, Cap, quick!" and, whirling around instantly, he saw an Indian
within three feet of the wagon, with his bow and arrow almost ready to
shoot; there was no tim