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Updated: June 3, 2025
The puncher instantly covered him with his long-barreled revolver and snapped tersely: "Hands up!" "My ante!" gasped the hunter. "A a road agent!" But he did not throw up his hands. With the rash bravery of inexperience, he dropped his knife and snatched out his automatic pistol. On the instant the puncher's big revolver roared. The pistol went spinning out of the hunter's hand.
Then a gnarled hand was stretched out and eagerly seized upon the beautiful little Marlin, which was quickly withdrawn from view. Just then Eli was startled to hear a gruff "Ahem" from a point in front of him, and glancing up hurriedly from his work he discovered a man standing leaning on a long-barreled rifle and surveying him with a sneer on his face.
A hasty exclamation from O'Connor followed as he drew from the scant cushions of the bunk a long-barreled pistol, a .44 such as the tong leaders used, the same make as had shot Bertha Curtis and Nichi. Craig seized it and stuck it into his pocket. All the gamblers had fled, all except those too drugged to escape.
It was a furious fight. Re-forming their lines, the regulars stood well. They checked the charge by a thunderous volley from the long-barreled flint-lock muskets the same as used at Brandywine, Princeton and Yorktown. The strategy of Little Turtle and his chiefs was excellent. They shifted the attack from point to point. They attacked both lines at once.
"It'll be long-range shooting, if they've got guns," he said. "Sorry I couldn't find a gun for you." Philip drew one of his two long-barreled service revolvers and set his lips in a grim and reassuring smile as he followed the bobbing head of a coyote some distance away.
One of the mounted men was dressed in fringed buckskin, his shoulder-length hair and bushy black beard the badge of a frontier already passing swiftly into history. He rode a big black mule and carried a long-barreled rifle, not in the saddle boot, but resting across the horn as if even here in Tubacca there might be reason for instant action. The mule trotted on to the middle of the plaza.
Both were clad in the typical border costume, raccoon skin cap, belted deerskin hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins of the same material, and each carried the long-barreled Kentucky rifle, hatchet, and knife. Their dress was careful and clean, and their bearing erect and dignified. Their appearance inspired respect. Henry looked at them with the greatest curiosity.
The sight of dead faces near him, not the lack of courage, more than once made him faint and dizzy. Twice and thrice the Shawnees tried to scale the steep hillsides, and with their superior numbers swing around behind the enemy, but the lines of the borderers were always extended to meet them, and the bullets from the long-barreled rifles cut down everyone who tried to pass.
Swords flashed, long-barreled pistols roared out their sullen death dooms. Mugambi launched his spear at the nearest of the enemy with a force that drove the heavy shaft completely through the Arab's body, then he seized a pistol from another, and grasping it by the barrel brained all who forced their way too near his mistress.
"I believe you are right, Humphrey; but I have been so accustomed to range the forest I am so fond of the chase I am so impatient of control or confinement, that I hardly know how to decide. A secretary's life is any thing but pleasing to me, sitting at a table writing and reading all day long. The pen is a poor exchange for the long-barreled gun."
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