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

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Then, at the right moment—as the sentinel passed out of view in one direction, Texas Jack darted forward like a serpent through the tall weeds. Although he ran on his feet and touched but one hand now and then to help retain his balance, the scout’s body could never have been seen above the waving tops of the grass and weeds.

For several rods he ran in this way and then dropped down again, panting, hugging the earth, flattening his body upon it, and waiting with every nerve on the qui vive to discover if his actions had been noted.

And well he knew that, if the sentinel had seen him, no shout—no sound—would be raised. The red would sneak up behind him, and his first audible sound would be the cry of triumph when the scalping-knife was plunged into the scout’s back!

Jack twisted his neck to see back over his shoulder. After a moment the Indian sentinel appeared again. He walked upright. Jack could see his nodding topknot of feathers, and that he carried a gun of some kind. He passed on without even glancing in the scout’s direction.