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

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Although badly shaken by his fall from the pony’s back, Texas Jack was on his feet in an instant and was running at topmost speed for the fort. He suspected that there would be a line of sentinels outside the stockade, and he raised his voice as he ran:

“Hold on, men; it’s Texas Jack! Don’t shoot!”

A cheer was the answer from the fort, while the Indians in the rear who heard uttered their war-whoop again and fired a scattering volley in the direction of the scout’s voice. But he was not hit, and, a few minutes later, he passed in through the gateway of the fort.

Proud of his deed, as he had good reason to be, he shouted:

“Slightly disfigured, boys, but still in the ring!”

The commander greeted the scout joyfully, but with his next breath asked anxiously:

“But Cody?”

“Is a long way on his ride to Resistence, sir.”

A cheer greeted this reply.

“Thank God for that good news! I trust you were not hurt on your way, Jack, though you did raise a merry rumpus in the Indian camps.”

“Well, now! Didn’t they turn loose for a few minutes, sir? But I got only a shake-up, for I got too proud to walk, and the pony I cabbaged took a header with an Injun bullet in him. Somebody got worse hurt than I did, though, and I’m not kicking a little bit, as luck came my way.”