one to which he was accustomed. The two had not become fitted to each other.
As it was, the bullet struck the forearm of the Indian and inflicted a sharp wound. It was the arm which was grasping the middle of the bow, and the hurt caused an involuntary twitch that spoiled the aim of the archer. The arrow, instead of speeding straight for the heart of the youth, whizzed high in air, circled grotesquely over and struck a rock fifty feet away from him. It was a lucky escape, and Alden lost not a second in taking advantage of it.
Throwing his head forward on the neck of his pony, he yanked the reins and called:
“Go it, old fellow!”
The creature understood. He leaped twenty feet, as if he had been hurled from a springboard and away he sped.
It is more than probable that the second Indian launched an arrow after the skurrying horseman, though Alden Payne had no means of knowing. A grim fancy came to the youth that if his enemy had done so, the pony outran the missile.
A brief dash carried Alden beyond sight of his enemies, though he was likely to encounter
