t, and as one of the next rode by he sent his arrow whizzing by
the boy's head, making him start nervously and raise his rifle to his
shoulder; but nearly a minute elapsed before he fired and lowered his
piece to thrust in a fresh cartridge, sitting half-hidden by the smoke,
which screened him from his enemies at the same time that it hindered
him from seeing the effect of his shot.

As the smoke rose it was only to show the party cantering by at an easy
pace and looking as if they were engaged in some trial of skill, and in
spite of the peril in which he was placed Chris's thoughts played a
strange prank, suggesting to him the old fable of the boys and the
frogs.

"What is sport to you is death to us!" he muttered bitterly, and aiming
more carefully now, well in advance of one of the Indians, he drew
trigger and wrenched himself on one side to avoid the smoke and watch
the effect.

The act worked in a two-edged way, for another arrow darted by him with
a buzz like that of an angry hornet, at the same time that a yell arose,
for he saw the man at whom he had fired trying to scramble up from the
earth and falling again, while his horse after throwing its rider had
reared up, to stand pawing the air frantically for some moments, before
coming down on all fours, and then tearing off at full gallop as hard as
it could set hoof to ground.

There was a furious yell of rage at this, and a feeling of satisfaction
thrilled through the boy's frame as his busy fingers opened and closed
the breech of his rifle. But the triumph was only short-lived.

_Whizz_--_thud_, another arrow was loosed off from the string, striking
the pony low-down in the chest. The poor animal uttered a groan that
was almost human in its tones, as it plunged and wrenched itself round,
to stand biting at the place where the arrow stuck out, snapping it in
two, and nearly unseating its rider, as well as robbing him of the power
to fire again, for his side was now towards the foe. Worse still, the
pony's change of front presented the whole flank to the enemy, who
responded with a yell of triumph by sending in a couple more arrows,
both of which hit.

In an instant the poor brute was erect upon its hind-legs, overbalancing
itself and falling backward, Chris saving himself by throwing himself
sidewise, while as he scrambled up, holding on tightly to his rifle, he
turned to fire, fully expecting that the Indians would dash in; but the
muzzle of the prese