He knew that his enemies were but two; in his eccentric course through
the forest he had passed directly over their trail, and he had read the
signs with an infallible eye. Now one was dead and the other like
himself had an unloaded gun. The rest of his deed would be a mere matter
of detail.
The second savage uttered his war cry and sprang forward from the
bushes. He might well have recoiled at the terrible figure that rushed
to meet him; in all his wild life of risks he had never before been
confronted by anything so instinct with terror, so ominous of death. But
he did not have time to take thought before he was overwhelmed by his
resistless enemy.
It was an affair of but a few moments. The Indian threw his tomahawk but
Henry parried the blade upon the barrel of his rifle which he still
carried in his left hand, and his own tomahawk was whirled in a
glittering curve about his head. Now it was launched with mighty force
and the savage, cloven to the chin, sank soundless to the earth; he had
been smitten down by a force so sudden and absolute that he died
instantly.
The victor, elate though he was, paused, and quickly reloaded his
rifle--wilderness caution would allow nothing else--and afterwards
advancing looked first at the savage whom he had slain in the open and
then at the other in the bushes.
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