Читать книгу Little Rifle; or, The Young Fur Hunters онлайн

14 страница из 33

“Ki! yi!”

Like a flash of lightning, the red-skin turned so as to face the sound, and doing so, saw the rifle not more than twenty feet distant, pointed straight at his breast, and with the finger resting upon the trigger. It was, indeed, only a hair’s breadth between him and eternity.

Accustomed as was the savage to the most desperate emergencies, he was completely taken off his guard by this unexpected turn of events, and for a moment he stood like one transfixed.

Then he began, almost imperceptibly, to lean his left side over, preparatory to making a sudden snatch for his gun; but Little Rifle was too thorough a scout to lose the advantage he had gained by his superior wit.

He had learned considerable of the Blackfoot tongue from old Ruff Robsart, and he now made the best use of it. Detecting the purpose of the red-skin on the instant, he called out:

“Stir a foot before I tell you, and I will shoot!”

Such a command was not to be mistaken, and the savage straightened himself with a suddenness that made him appear ridiculous. Men like him have too much dread of death to invite it by any direct means, and treacherous and vindictive as he was, he comprehended his danger in all its fullness.