The Indians were still nearly half a mile away, when Jerry, handing me the glasses through which he had been looking, said, in a low voice,—­

“It’s jest as I reckoned; there’s Hal’s pony, and an Injun on him, I’ll bet two ter one it’s the same cusssed varmint thet was a-sneakin’ about camp here, not an hour ago.”

There were ten Indians in the party, who, even at that distance, commenced riding around in a circle just out of range of our rifles, yelling furiously, using the most insulting gestures towards us, and daring us to come out and meet them.  It was quite evident that the savages had no weapons but their bows and arrows; consequently, did not like to come within range of our rifles.  Up to this time, neither of us had fired a shot, and Jerry suddenly went to one of the wagons; and, procuring an old Sharp’s carbine, loaded it; and, taking good aim, fired at a group of four or five, that were huddled together on the plain.

To our amazement and delight, we saw one of the number throw his arms up into the air and tumble headlong from his horse to the ground, while the rest instantly scattered; nor did they come together again until they were at least a mile away.

“That was a good one Jerry,” cried I.  “Give ’em another.”

“’Twon’t do no good; ‘twan’t nothin’ but luck.  I couldn’t do it agin in shootin’ a dozen times, with this wind a-blowin’,” muttered Jerry.  “That’s enuff to scare ’em to death.  They hadn’t no more idee I could reach ’em than I had.”

“I wonder what they’ll do now?  They must be going to try that circle dodge,” said I, seeing the party separate.

In a very few moments, before either Jerry or myself realized what they were doing, they had jumped from their horses, fired the tall, dry grass to the windward of us, and were scudding away from it as fast as their horses could carry them.

Quicker than thought, the wind caught the flames, that seemed to leap fifty feet into the air, which, in an instant, became so filled with heat and smoke, that suffocation seemed inevitable.  We could scarcely see or breathe; and the wind was driving the flames directly towards us.

The wagons, animals, ourselves even, were at their mercy.  What could we do to escape the horrible fate that stared us in the face?

Jerry was the first to realize our danger.  Starting in the direction of the fire so fast approaching, as he yelled, at the top of his voice,—­

“Git ther empty corn-sacks, blankets, anything ter keep ther fire off from ther wagons and critters.  Be quicker’n lightnin’, thar!” cried he, as he hastily set another fire, not twenty yards from us.

In a second we were fighting the new fire with whatever we could lay our hands upon.

So vigorously did we work, that we succeeded in keeping the flames from our wagons and stock, which, in a few minutes, rolled by us in huge billows of fire.