The Indian released his hold, baffled by the erudition and the calm
courage of his captain.

"I make tracks," he said; and, swinging round so that his horse
concealed his body, he galloped down the bluff, and through the
American cavalry, scattering death from the arrows which he loosed
under his horse's neck.

Four Hair-Brushes was alone.

Unarmed, as ever, he sat, save for the hunting-whip in his right
hand.

"Scalp him!" yelled the Friendly Crows.

"Nay, take him alive: a seemlier knight never backed steed!" cried
the gallant Americans.

From their midst rode a courteous cavalier, Captain John Barry, the
scholar, the hero of sword and pen.

"Yield thee, Sir Knight!" he said, doffing his kepi in martial
courtesy.

Four Hair-Brushes replied to his salute, and was opening his curved
and delicate lips to speak, when a chance bullet struck him full in
the breast. He threw up his arms, reeled, and fell. The gallant
American, leaping from saddle to ground, rushed to raise his head.