Whoever he was, he was in a
veritable fury. As many as half of the Indians seemed utterly carried
away by his fiery words, and with much shouting and gesticulation and
brandishing of gun and lance, were yelling approbation of his views and
urging Stabber's people to join them. More furious language followed and
much dashing about of excited ponies.
"Have you ever seen that fellow before?" demanded Ray, of brown-eyed
Sergeant Winsor, who had spent a lifetime on the plains, but Winsor was
plainly puzzled.
"I can't say for the life of me, sir," was the answer. "I don't know him
at all--and yet--"
"Whoever he is, by Jove," said Ray, "he's a bigger man this day than
Stabber, for he's winning the fight. Now, if he only leads the dash as
he does the debate, we can pick him off. Who are our best shots on this
front?" and eagerly he scanned the few faces near him. "Webber's tiptop
and good for anything under five hundred yards when he isn't excited,
and Stoltz, he's a keen, cool one. No! not you, Hogan," laughed the
commander, as a freckled faced veteran popped his head up over a nearby
parapet of sand, and grinned his desire to be included.
"I've never seen the time you could hit what you aimed at.
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