The Ferguson Rifle Read Online Free PDF Page A

shooting.”
    â€œI know that. I’ll risk it until I can make a shirt. Has it been quiet?”
    Heath shrugged. “Yes, if you can call it that. Frogs down below, and the usual coyotes, but the light is deceitful. You’ll have to keep a wary eye for trouble.”
    Taking my rifle, I went out to the perimeter of the knoll and looked down over the prairie below. All seemed to be empty and still. In the darkness a good bit was yet visible, and I walked slowly, halfway around the camp, then quickly doubled back and came around from the opposite direction.
    Heath added a few small chunks to the fire to keep the coals alive for morning, then turned in.
    The camp was still. If an attack was to come, the obvious place was from out of the creek bed where nothing could be seen. One by one I checked off the sleeping positions of my friends. Talley, Ebitt, Sandy, Kemble, Shanagan, Heath, and the Otoe.
    The time drew on, and my ears became attuned to the night. I moved off, never circling the same way twice, never completing a circle, for I wished to establish no pattern, no way I could be timed. In the far off east there seemed to be a lightening of the sky, but it was early for that.
    For several minutes I was conscious of something wrong before it occurred to me that the frogs had ceased their endless croaking. The night was suddenly silent.
    Near a boulder I squatted, one toe slightly behind the other, listening.
    Nothing … no sound.
    I turned my head. Should I awaken them? I did not want to make them lose their sleep because of my own foolishness. I could awaken one of them … Talley, perhaps.
    Talley … Ebitt … Sandy … Kemble … Davy Shanagan, Isaac Heath, and the—
    The Otoe was gone!
    Horses … first they would stampede the horses. That much I had learned. Swiftly, I ran to them. They were nervous, heads up, nostrils distended.
    â€œShanagan,” I said.
    And a shadow moved … a horse snorted, and I sidestepped as a darker shadow lunged toward me. There was the gleam of firelight on a knifeblade, and I chopped, short and hard, with the butt of my rifle.
    He was coming low and fast and the butt
thunked
against his skull and he went down hard. Turning swiftly as another came in over the low mound, I fired.
    My shot was from the hip, for there was no chance to aim. It caught the Indian and turned him but my hands went automatically for bullet and powder.
    All was suddenly still. Unused to combat, I had expected the clash of arms, the scream of wounded, the stabbing flames of shooting … and there was nothing.
    Stepping back among the horses, I went from one to the other, whispering to quiet them down. From where I stood, I could see the beds of the others, all empty.
    Something stirred near me and I turned swiftly. Davy’s voice was scarcely breathed. “You all right?”
    â€œThe Otoe was gone. I went to the horses, thinking they might try to stampede them.”
    â€œYou done right.” He could see the body on the ground about a dozen feet away. “You got one?”
    â€œTwo, I think. I shot one over there.”
    I started forward and Shanagan caught my arm. “Uhuh. They’ll still be out there.”
    There was a faint lemon tinge to the far-off sky now. We stood waiting, listening.
    An owl hooted … inquiringly. After a bit, the same owl.
    Davy’s lips at my ear whispered, “Wonderin’ where this one is.”
    The sky lightened, red streaks shot up, and high in the heavens a cloud blushed faintly at the earth below.
    We waited, not moving, not knowing what might come. The Indians might press the attack, might draw away to wait for a better moment. The red man is under no compulsion to continue a fight. He does not insist upon victory at any cost, and he has time. He is under no compulsion to win
now
.
    Now the sky brightened quickly. We moved to the perimeter, seeking firing positions. The plain below was innocent of