"Well," proffered Simon, lazily, "we can wait till mornin'. The pesky wind will have blown itself out by then."
And so it did. The river was smooth and peaceful in the sunrise. They hustled to gather their little herd and drive them in--but remembering their fright of yesterday, not an animal would take to the water. They all balked, and scampered. Soon they were scattered on the back trail.
"By cracky, it's no go, boys!" Clark gasped. "Our time's up. I feel Injuns. Let's mount and make off--for I tell you, scalpin' knives are near."
"No, sir! Not a step without those hosses," vowed Simon. "I'll leave not a one. We've 'arned 'em and we'll keep 'em."
"All right. Hosses and all, then. Hooray!"
Horseback, they started in to round up the loose animals, on the back trail. They rode in a line, Simon at the middle--and he had gone scarcely one hundred yards when he heard a halloo behind him, asking him to wait.
Somebody was coming from their camping place; the hail had been in good English, but he was suspicious. Nevertheless--
"Whoever you are, I'm your humble sarvant," Simon laughed, to himself. "And for your politeness I'll give you as little trouble as possible."
Thereupon what did he do but dismount, and with his rifle in the hollow of his arm leisurely stroll back in the direction of the voice! He had full faith that he could take care of himself, afoot as well as ahorse. In a moment he found himself facing three Shawnees and a white man, riding straight for him.
He threw his rifle to his shoulder, for a scalp, and a signal shot to his comrades. He drew fine bead upon the heart of the leading warrior, pulled trigger--the dampened powder only flashed in the pan.
At the click and the sputter the four horsemen shouted and charged him. Drat such a gun! All that he might do was to whirl and run like a deer for the nearest thicket. He crashed into it, head-first; they could not follow. He tore through, and was commencing to chuckle at his success--when just out of the farther edge of the fallen trees and tangled underbrush he bolted almost into an Indian, horseback, galloping as if to overhaul him.
"The goose is cooked," thought Simon. He had had no time in which to freshen his priming. He stopped short. He heard the sound of pursuit in the jungle behind him. No use.