"Ugh!" grunted Yellow Elk. He had just managed to scramble out of the fire, and was beating out the flames which had caught on a fringe of his garments. "Pawnee Brown."
He muttered a fierce imprecation in his native tongue. Then, before Pawnee Brown could stop him his pistol flashed in the firelight. He took aim at the scout's head and fired.
But though the action of the Indian chief was quick, the movement of the boomer was quicker.
Many times had he been under fire, and he had learned to drop when occasion required as rapidly as it could be done.
With the pressure upon the pistol trigger he went down like a flash and the bullet intended for his head merely grazed the top of his hat and flattened itself upon the cave wall opposite.
"Bah!" hissed Yellow Elk, when he saw how he had missed. He attempted to take him once more, but now Pawnee Brown hurled himself on the redskin, turning the barrel of the weapon aside, and both went to the stone flooring with a crash. Nellie Winthrop let out a shriek of terror.
"Do not let him shoot you! Make him throw the pistol away!" she cried, as she wrung her hands. She would have liked to assist Pawnee Brown, but could not see how it could just then be done.
