Henry
was in the lead, and he heard a sudden snarl. A large cur of the
kind that infest Indian villages leaped straight at him.
The very suddenness of the attack saved Henry and his comrades
from the consequences of an alarm. He dropped his rifle
instinctively, and seized the dog by the throat with both hands.
A bark following the snarl had risen to the animal's throat, but
it was cut short there. The hands of the great youth pressed
tighter and tighter, and the dog was lifted from the earth. The
four stood quietly beside their comrade, knowing that no alarm
would be made now.
The dog kicked convulsively, then hung without motion or noise.
Henry cast the dead body aside, picked up his rifle, and then all
five of them sank softly down in the shelter of the grapevines.
About fifteen yards away an Indian warrior was walking cautiously
along and looking among the vines. Evidently he had heard the
snarl of the dog, and was seeking the cause. But it had been
only a single sound, and he would not look far. Yet the hearts
of the five beat a little faster as he prowled among the vines,
and their nerves were tense for action should the need for it
come.
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