h it. We kin keep in the kiver o'
the smoke as far as it'll screen us. You foller, an' see that ye don't
lose sight o' me. If we must go under in the eend, let it be out on the
open plain, an' not shut up hyar like badgers in a barr'l. Follow me
clost, Frank. Now or niver!"

Almost mechanically the young Kentuckian yielded obedience; and in ten
seconds after the two horsemen had cleared the waggon clump, with the
shouting crowd that encircled it and were going at full gallop across
the sand-strewn plain.

CHAPTER NINE.

QUARRELLING OVER SCALPS.

Nearly simultaneous with the departure of the two horsemen came the
closing scene of the conflict. Indeed it ended on the instant of their
riding off. For of their comrades left behind there was not one upon
his feet--not one able to fire another shot, or strike another blow.
All lay dead, or wounded, among the waggons; some of the dead, as the
wounded, clasping the handle of a knife whose blade reeked with blood,
or a pistol from whose muzzle the smoke was still oozing.

But soon among the whites there were no wounded, for the hovering host,
having closed in from all sides, leaped from their horses, swarmed over
the barrier between, tomahawking the last that showed signs of life, or
thrusting them with their long lances, and pinning them to the sand.
Through the body of every white man at least a half-dozen spear-blades
were passed, while a like number of savages stood exultingly over, or
danced triumphantly around it.

And now ensued a scene that might be symbolised only among wild beasts
or fiends in the infernal regions. It was a contest for possession of
the scalps of those who had fallen--each of the victors claiming one.
Some stood with bared blades ready to peel them off, while others held
out hands and weapons to prevent it. From the lips of the competitors
came shouts and expostulations, while their eyes flashed fire, and their
arms rose and fell in furious gesticulations.

Amidst their demoniac jargon could be heard a voice louder than all,
thundering forth a command. It was to desist from their threatening
strife and extinguish the flames that still flared up over the waggons.
He who spoke was the one with the red cross upon his breast, its bars of
bright vermilion gleaming like fire against the sombre background of his
skin. He was the chief of the Tenawa Comanches--the Horned Lizard--as
Wilder had justly conjectured.

And as their chief he