“Here I’ll await you, you old copper-skinned hoodlum!” he called out, in unmistakable English.

Lone Wolf did not check his speed; nor, on the other hand, did he hasten it.  Let alone, he was sure to reach the proper point in due time; but the trouble was that Sut had no time to spare.  The dozen horsemen who were making their circuit must have accomplished considerable of it already, and would soon be closing in around him.

The hunter had been caught in just such predicaments many a time before, and had managed to pull through without material injury; but no brave man who was possessed of ordinary sense would willingly allow himself to be drawn into such a trap.  The Apaches were as good riders as he, and a shot that would disable his horse would play mischief with the rider.  He wished to avoid any such snarl, and so he dallied and trifled with his adversary in the hope of trolling him along to a point where he could hold him, while the Indian continued his advance like one whose only purpose was to hold his man until the other warriors could close in behind him.  The moment speedily came when it would not have been best to wait a second longer.

Wheeling his horse with the suddenness of lightning, Simpson charged at full speed straight at Lone Wolf.  The latter was surprised by the movement, but he was not thrown off his guard, nor did he seek to fall back on his reserves.  It would be time enough to do that when he should become convinced of its necessity; besides which, he had only to keep the hunter engaged for a brief time in order to give his horsemen the chance to entrap him.

Bearing in mind the deceitful character of the chief, Sut waited until he was within a short distance, when he wheeled and let drive with a couple chambers of his revolver.  Lone Wolf went over the side of his mustang so suddenly that the hunter believed he had been killed; but, as he checked himself before reaching the ground, he saw his mistake, and knew that the savage’s “reply” would be forthcoming on the instant.  Accordingly, Sut followed suit and interposed the body of his mustang like a flash between himself and the red-skin.

He was not a wink too soon.  Just as he went over he caught the flash, and heard the report of a pistol.  The chief had fired from beneath the neck of his steed, with his revolver—­for Lone Wolf carried his revolver, like any other gentleman of the plains.

This was complicating matters so much that the hunter determined to force conclusions without a moment’s delay.

There was no use of firing at the Indian as long as he was protected by his horse.  He was to cunning to be caught napping.  So, without a particle of hesitation, Sut threw the muzzle of his rifle beneath the neck of his steed, and fired straight at the one which was sheltering his adversary.

The shot was fatal, and, with a frenzied leap, the animal stumbled forward upon his neck, and fell dead in his tracks.  Nimble Lone Wolf threw himself as quick as a flash from beneath the falling body, and, conscious of his disadvantage, started on a run for the main body of warriors; but Sut, with extraordinary shrewdness, had anticipated this very thing, and, assisted by the intelligence of his animal, he threw himself ahead of him, so as to shut off the flight in that direction.