The night was dark, but Tad was able to make out objects with more or
less distinctness. He used his eyes and ears to good purpose. Once
Tad thought he heard a twig snap a short distance ahead of him. He
halted abruptly and sat steadily for fully ten minutes. There being
no further sounds he moved forward again.
It was a trying situation for a boy. Tad Butler felt the thrill of
the moment, but he was unafraid. It is doubtful if Tad ever had
realized a sense of fear, though he was far from being foolhardy,
nor was there the faintest trace of bravado about him. He was simply
a steady nerved, brave lad who would do his duty as he saw it no
matter how great the obstacles or how imminent the peril.
The boy had gone forward for some thirty minutes when all at once his
quick ears caught a peculiar, low whistle some distance ahead. Tad
with ready resourcefulness answered the whistle, imitating it as
nearly as possible. But he made a mistake. That whistle was not
the right whistle.
Bang!
A flash of flame leaped toward him and he heard the "wo-o-o-o" of a
bullet over his head. The boy was off his pony. Then Tad tried the
tactics of an Indian. Quickly and silently tethering his pony, he
fired a shot high enough so that he did not think it likely to hit
any one. Skulking a few paces farther on, he fired again. Several
shots were in this manner fired, and in quick succession, giving the
impression that there were several men shooting.
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