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Both ponies sprang away in the darkness, the lads clinging to the saddles, none too sure of the path that lay before them, and riding desperately. Bang, bang, bang! Three rifle shots rang out in quick succession, and the boys imagined they could hear the bullets sing over their heads. "Hi-yi-yip yah-hi-yah!" "They're gaining on us. They're gaining, Phil. Ride for your life!"
Hour after hour passed, and yet no friendly sign of Reno's coming; nothing to be seen through the battle-smoke, except streaks of fire splitting through the misty clouds, blood flowing in rivulets under tramping feet, dying comrades, and Indians swarming around him, rending the air with their demoniacal "hi-yi-yip-yah! yah-hi-yah!"
"And so is this one mine. It's Pink-eye." "What's that noise!" asked Phil in a tremulous voice. "Hi-yi-yip-yah yah-hi-yah!" rang out the Indian war cry, as the braves threw themselves on the bare backs of their ponies and tore from the village, going in all directions. Tad drove the spurs in viciously. "Quick! Quick, Phil! They're after us." "I'm coming."
The time for the change came a few moments later. The Indians were gaining on them every second. Now the "hi-yi-yip yah-hi-yah" sounded as if it was being shrieked into their ears. Tad drove Pink-eye right against the other pony.
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