This was what I was wishing to do. We accordingly left the wood and made our way down the hill, towards the remains of the waggon. We had not got far, however, when we caught sight of three horsemen galloping across the plain towards us. My companion scrutinised them narrowly.
"If they are friends, they have reason for their hurry; and if enemies, the sooner we get under cover the better," he observed. "We must not now attempt to reach the waggon. Ah! I understand all about it. See! out there come a dozen or more horsemen. They must be Indians in pursuit of the first--who, if I mistake not, are our friends. Come on, Roger! they will reach the hill as soon as we do."
"Now, we'll give it them!" exclaimed Samson, as he and Sandy opened three of the concealed loopholes,
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Discount Coach Handbags, but numbers were following them, and rushing forward with their hatchets, dealt desperate blows on the door.
"You will find two more rifles in yonder chest,
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As he said this we retreated to the foot of the hill, and began to climb it as rapidly as we could.
"They are making their way up the hill," said Samson. "Get inside, lad, and prepare to close the entrance when I tell you."
While he was speaking,
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We were just approaching the entrance of the cave, when the war-whoops of the Indians, and their loud cries, as they shouted to each other, reached our ears.
"You may cut away pretty hard, my laddies, before you break that in," observed Sandy, as he reloaded his rifle. Samson and I were doing the same, and again we fired; but most of the Indians, knowing the time we should take to do that, sprang aside, and only one of them was hit.
"Yes, yes! Sandy knows it as well as I do," he answered, without stopping.
"But, if these are our friends, will they find their way to the cave?" I asked.
The loud rustling sound of persons making their way through the brushwood was heard, and presently Sandy,
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In a moment they were all three within the cave. Old Samson was still outside, and I saw him lift his rifle and fire. At the same moment two arrows flew past his head--one sticking in the woodwork, the other entering the cavern--and just then I caught sight of the fierce countenances of half-a-dozen red warriors who were making their way between the trees. Their leader, springing forward tomahawk in hand, nearly reached Samson; when, with the agility of a far younger man, he sprang through the opening,
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"No time to be lost," sang out Sandy. "The Redskins are at our heels!"
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