Sut saw all this and was not surprised thereat.  He believed that he was too old a bird to be caught with such chaff.  The manner in which he could defeat the purpose of Lone Wolf was by direct fight, or by forcing him into a combat which would anticipate the intention of the Apache.  He preferred the latter course, and he made the effort in the common Indian way, by uttering a taunt, still using the Apache tongue.

“Lone Wolf is a coward and a dog!  He is afraid of the white hunter!  He stays by his warriors, that they may hold his head when his heart grows faint at sight of his pale-face foe.”

Anyone who understands the temper of an Indian will see that such a taunt as this was of the most exasperating nature.  It rankled deeply in the heart of Lone Wolf, who would have given a dozen of his best warriors for the chance of burying his tomahawk in the skull of his foe; but he was too cunning to be misled by his desire for revenge.  He, too, indulged in a little of the taunting business himself; and, as the hunter had honored him by speaking in the Apache language, he “threw himself,” so to speak, in English.

“The white hunter is afraid of Lone Wolf.  He dreads his scalping-knife.  His heart trembles, and he knows not where to hide himself.”

“He does not hide from Lone Wolf, for he has hunted days and nights to find him, and when Lone Wolf saw him coming, he ran among his warriors and hid.”

“He is not among them now,” retorted Lone Wolf; “while he seeks Sut Simpson, the brave hunter moves away.”

Such was really the case.  Judged from a superficial standpoint, the greatest show of courage was made by the Apache, whose horse was moving forward at a slow, cautious pace, while the mustang of Sut Simpson kept up a continued and equally guarded retreat, so that the distance between the two taunting enemies remained about the same.  The hunter had a manifest purpose in this, which was simply to draw his foe far enough away from his support to gain a chance for a sudden dash at him before he could elude him.  At the same time he did not forget the dozen horsemen that had stolen out so cautiously from the rear, and he knew that “if it were done, then ’twere well it were done quickly,” as Macbeth so aptly puts it.

Sut carefully measured the intervening space with his eye, but Lone Wolf was still too near his reserve.  The two men were eying each other like cats, and, although he taunted so loudly, yet no one would have been readier than the Apache to flee if he believed that he was in greater peril than his antagonist.

“Why does not Lone Wolf move faster?” asked Sut, hoping to spur him into doing so.

“Why does not the hunter wait for him?” asked the chief, very appropriately, in return.

The scout thought that if he could draw the savage a few yards further he would have him just where he wanted him.  Feeling how precious the passing time was, he galloped his mustang a rod or so and then came to a sudden abrupt halt.