a patch of brush, to leave a trail of his own. Hah!
Injuns! There was a large fat fellow searching about, on one side, and
there were two others between him and the fort. He'd better draw them
after him; maybe he could string them out and fight them separately.
That would give Joe a good chance. He jumped from the brush patch and
ran for the willows of a little creek. The fat Indian saw him and with
a whoop ran in pursuit.

Suddenly his leg went bad, almost throwing him down. He had been
wounded in the first "scrimmage" and had not known it. Pshaw! He'd
never outfoot the Indian, to the willows. He turned, with lifted gun.
The fat Indian dodged briskly. That occurred several times. The two
other Indians were now coming, also.

"If I don't get shet o' this fat rascal I'm gone 'coon," muttered Tom.
"But, dod rat him, he so lively I can't lay bead on his greasy hide!
I'll have to draw his fire, Kentucky way."

Daniel Boone and other Long Hunters of Kentucky knew how to dodge
Indians' bullets. They would wait for the fall of the hammer and the
flash of the priming in the pan, and would spring aside before the ball
reached them. It was a great trick, but it took a quick eye and steady
nerve.

Ranger Higgins decided to try it. He did not dare to use his own load.
He watched the fat Indian, let him take aim--and at the spurt from the
hammer he whirled. But he was too slow. The ball struck him in the
thigh and knocked him down.

He bounded up. The fat Indian was reloading and the two other Indians
were running in. Tom ran, likewise, as fast as he could, which was not
very fast, now. The Indians leveled their guns. Over his shoulder he
watched; and when he thought their fingers were pressing the triggers
he dropped. He dropped too soon! As he staggered up they fired, then;
every bullet hit him! Down he went, a second time, with four bullets
in his body, and with a bad leg besides.

Up he got. He was a hard man to kill. The three Indians came on with
spears and knives, to finish him. But Tom did not propose to be
finished. He threatened them with his gun, and they dared not rush in.
The fat Indian at last determined to take a chance. Perhaps the white
man's gun was not loaded. He charged, with his spear; Ranger Higgins
had to shoot, and shoot he did.

That left two Indians for him to face with his crippled leg and an
empty gun. He worked hard to reload before they could reach him--but
here t