The rower whom Henry had
pointed out fell back in the boat, his hands slipping from the
handles of his oars. The boat was thrown into confusion, and
dropped back in the race. Scattering shots were fired in return,
but all fell short, the water spurting up in little jets where
they struck.
Henry, who had caught something of the Indian nature in his long
stay among them in the northwest, laughed in loud irony.
"That was one of our little messengers, and it found a listener!"
he shouted. "And I see that you are afraid, Braxton Wyatt and
Walter Butler, murderers of women and children! Why don't you
keep your proper places in the front?"
"That's the way to talk to 'em," whispered Shif'less Sol, as he
reloaded. "Keep it up, an' mebbe we kin git a chance at Braxton
Wyatt hisself. Since Wyoming I'd never think o' missin' sech a
chance."
"Nor I, either," said Henry, and he resumed in his powerful
tones: "The place of a leader is in front, isn't it? Then why
don't you come up?"
Braxton Wyatt and Walter Butler did not come up. They were not
lacking in courage, but Wyatt knew what deadly marksmen the
fugitive boat contained, and he had also told Butler.
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