Читать книгу Buffalo Bill, the Border King; Or, Redskin and Cowboy онлайн

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“Don’t shoot the girl!” the scout yelled to the soldiers lining the walls above him. “Have a care for the girl!”

But there was scarcely chance for the whites to fire at all at the oncoming White Antelope and her party, before Buffalo Bill was beside the big white charger and the struggling king of the Sioux.

Out flashed the scout’s pistol, and he presented it to the red man’s head.

“Oak Heart, you are my prisoner! Yield yourself!” he cried, in the Sioux tongue.

At the same moment he seized the thong by which the Indian was wrenching at the jaw of the white horse, snatched it from Oak Heart’s grasp, and gave the big charger his head. The white horse sprang forward for the open gate of the fort, and Buffalo Bill’s mount kept abreast of him. The redskins dared not fire at the scout for fear of killing Oak Heart.

A volley from the soldiery sent the would-be rescuers of the chief back to cover. Only the beautiful girl, White Antelope, was left boldly in the open, shaking her befeathered spear and trying to rally her people to the charge. The white men honored Buffalo Bill’s request and did not shoot at her, or the Sioux would have lost their mascot as well as their great chieftain.