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Through Apache Lands39章节

CHAPTER XX. WHITE VS. RED.
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the hunter seemed to step forth from some crevice in the rocks, wherein he had been concealed, and strode forward in such a manner that lone wolf saw him at the very instant the first word was uttered.

the latter withdrew his gaze from the boy and turned with lightning-like swiftness upon his adversary, while the latter, as cool and self-possessed as if he were about to slice up an antelope or buffalo, continued approaching with his hunting knife firmly clasped in his right hand. the indian, perceiving the character of the fight, flung his rifle several yards from him, where it was beyond the reach of both, and recoiling a single step, put himself in form to receive the charge of his assailant.

"ned, my boy," said the latter, without looking at him, "get back. there's no telling what may happen."

this was no more than a prudent caution. the fight was over the boy, and if lone wolf should find the battle going against him, he would resort to any treacherous trick by which to destroy the prize,—such, for instance, as a sudden dart upon the unsuspecting spectator and the plunging of his knife to his heart before the active hunter could thwart him. ned obeyed his rescuer, whom he had never seen before, and stepped back full a dozen yards from the combatants, but with his eyes intently fixed upon them.

tom was not the man to advance blindly to the assault, for none knew better than he did the character of the foe he was about to assail. when, therefore, he was just within striking distance, he paused, and, with his grey eyes centered upon the black, snake-like orbs of the chief, began circling around him in a stealthy cat-like movement, on the lookout for some opening of which he might take advantage.

"lone wolf is a coward and a dog," he growled between his set teeth. "he fights with pappooses, but he is afraid of men."

this was said with the sole purpose of exasperating the warrior, who would thus have been placed at a slight disadvantage; but he was already like a concentrated volcano—calm outwardly, but surcharged with fire and death within. the taunt did not move his nerves an iota, and he replied in words which were scarcely less irritating.

"it is the boasting dog which never hurts. if lone wolf is a dog, why are you so afraid to come within his reach?"

the words were yet in his mouth when the scout dashed forward like a catapult and struck a tremendous blow, driven with such directness and swiftness that it could not have been parried. at the very instant hardynge made the charge, lone wolf did the same, and the two similar blows, aimed at the same moment, encountered half way with such terrible violence that both knives were hurled twenty feet beyond over the cliff at their side, and irrevocably beyond their reach. this left them with no weapons except such as nature had provided them with, and, now that their blood was up and each was smarting under the pain of the first collision, they immediately closed in and grappled each other like a couple of infuriated gladiators.

hardynge was a marvel of strength and activity, and so was the apache. the two were nearly evenly matched, a slight superiority in wrestling attaching to the white man, who, after a furious struggle of a minute or so, flung his antagonist as flat as could be, upon his back. he struck like an india-rubber ball, and, before tom could fasten him down, so as to hold him, bounded up again and renewed his fight without a second's hesitation.

"the devil take you!" growled the maddened hunter, as he let drive a sledgehammer-like blow straight from the shoulder.

it encountered the chief fairly upon the forehead, with a force apparently sufficient to crush his skull, but it only sent him reeling back several paces, when his sinewy activity saved him from falling. with the same unhesitating promptness he charged as before.

"if that skull ain't more than six inches thick, it'll go this time," muttered tom, as he gathered all his strength and sent out his fist like the thrust of a piston rod.

but lone wolf was expecting it and a quick flirt of the head to one side let the mallet go harmlessly by, while the impetus of his own blow threw hardynge forward several steps, and narrowly escaped carrying him off his feet altogether. with an exasperating taunt the chief landed a blow upon the face of his antagonist as he shot by, and, catching him about the shoulder before he could recover, flung him to the ground with great violence, falling heavily upon him.

had the knife of the apache been in his hand at this juncture he would have ended the struggle in short order; but he was without the means of improving his advantage, and before he knew it he was turned from the chest of the prostrate man. and this critical moment, when the issue of the contest was very doubtful, a second figure came out from the rocks, and approached the combatants. it was that of dick morris, who coolly asked:

"sha'n't i knock him on the head, tom, and end this little row?"

"no," fairly shouted the enraged hunter, as they hammered away at each other. "if you do it, i'll knock you on the head. this is a fair and square fight in which the best man wins. if i can't knock thunder and lightning out of this redskin, let him knock it out of me. stand back!"

"all right," replied dick, very contentedly, walking to where the enthralled ned chadmund stood and asking him whether he wished to stake a little wager on the result.

the appearance of this third party ended the contest in a manner neither of the whites anticipated. the words of tom hardynge, declining the assistance of his friend, were understood by lone wolf; but, treacherous and faithless himself, he regarded them as only a part of a trap in which he was to be caught, and his whole purpose was to get out of the dilemma as quickly as possible. however hopeful he might be in a single hand-to-hand encounter with one of the men, he was not vain enough to think that he could master both. in their struggling they had approached quite close to the cliff, and lone wolf made a determined attempt to throw tom over. by a little feinting and dodging, he managed to get him between himself and the edge and then began pressing him furiously.

"that's your game, is it?" exclaimed the scout. "if it is, sail in, and may the best man win."

both were striking very wildly, when, hastily parrying several blows, hardynge made a sudden rush, closed in, grasping the chief around the waist, and, lifting him clear of the ground, ran to the edge of the cliff and flung him over!

but hardynge was outwitted. this was the very thing for which lone wolf had maneuvered so slyly. the cliff was not more than twenty feet in height, and when the hunter peered over the margin, expecting to see his enemy dashed to pieces at a great depth below, he saw him land as lightly as a panther upon his feet and then whisk out of sight among the rocks.

"thunder and blazes!" he exclaimed, when he comprehended the little trick that had been played upon him. jerking off his hat, he slammed it impatiently to the ground, and turning to his comrade, said:

"did you ever see a bigger fool than me?"

"don't think i ever did," was the serious reply.

"never thought what the injun was after till it was too late to hinder him."

"i knowed it all the time. this ere little chap could have seed as much himself," was the tantalizing reply.

"why didn't you sing out, then, when you seed me pick him up and start to throw him over?"

"'cause i thought you was only fooling. do you know there's a reward of five hundred dollars offered for lone wolf, dead or alive? see what you have lost?"

"who offered it?" demanded tom.

"colonel chadmund told me that old captain alvarez, that owns a big ranch near santa fe, lost a thousand cattle by a stampede that he had got up, and he's the man that has promised a hundred times to give that reward to whoever wipes out the chief."

"anything else to tell?" said hardynge, disgustedly.

"yes. when colonel chadmund told me that, he punched me slyly in the side, and says, 'and yes, dick, i'll put another five hundred on top of it.'"

"hain't you got a little more such news?" asked poor tom, who was wondering whether it was possible to feel any more angered or disgusted with himself than he now felt.

"no—that'll do just now. i think you've had enough."

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