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

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The pony did not change its position. Jack knew. So, after a moment of waiting, the scout risked moving on. He came finally to the edge of the brush, and there the horse stood—not three yards away from him!

And from where he crouched the scout could see more than the bulk of the pony’s body against the sky-line. It was bestrode by an Indian in head-dress and blanket. It was doubtless one of the chiefs who had started to ride around the fort. Would he ride on and not suspect the presence of the white man in the bushes?

But perhaps, in his nervousness, Texas Jack had not imitated the porcupine true enough to satisfy the keen ear of the Indian. Or else the porcupine’s grunt was a private signal between this chief and his own men.

However, Texas Jack saw the redskin force his pony nearer the thicket, and he heard its rider twitter like a bird disturbed at night in its nest.

“Old man, you’ve got the best of me!” thought the scout. “I can’t answer that signal, for I don’t know what the answer is. It’s a bad thing for you!”