One of two things was inevitable, and that within the space of a few seconds: the Apaches or white men must turn to one side, or there would be a fierce fight. Eph Bozeman and his comrades were resolved to keep on until the noses of their ponies should touch. What was the purpose of the red men must appear immediately.
The break came from an unexpected source. Belden Rickard and Harman Slidham had not forgotten the parting words of the trapper, and were on the watch at the upper front windows. The rapidly increasing light showed the four horsemen coming down the slope, and they saw the Apaches set out to meet them. Matters were on the eve of explosion when Rickard took deliberate sight from his window and fired at the warriors. The shot was a long one, but so accurately aimed that a dusky horseman, with a rasping screech, rolled off his pony, the animal breaking into a gallop, circling away from the others, and, facing toward the building, whinneying with fright and dashing aimlessly hither and thither in a panic.
The other Apaches acted as if the report of the gun was the signal for them to break apart, for they did so with a suddenness that could not have been surpassed had a bombshell burst beneath them.
Several turned to the right and others to the left, while one, as if he absolutely feared nothing, headed his black pony directly at Bozeman and thundered forward on a dead run.
The miscreant was actually charging the whole party.
He emitted a terrifying whoop, leaning almost on his horse’s ears, as he brought his rifle round in front to fire, but a master hand at that business had not taken his eye from him since he started on his daring ride. The raising of the gun and the aiming and firing seemed to take place all together, and in the twinkling of an eye.
“Thar’s one fool less,” was the quiet remark of Eph as he lowered his piece; “now, boys, grab ground.”
His pony was stretching away at headlong speed for the building, the others imitating him so quickly that the four continued in a bunch. “Keep it up,” he added, firing again at their assailants.
Strubell and Lattin discharged their pieces as often as they could take any sort of aim, but the conditions were against accuracy, and there was no evidence that they did any execution.