At the click and the sputter the four horsemen shouted and charged him. Drat such a gun! All that he might do was to whirl and run like a deer for the nearest thicket. He crashed into it, head-first; they could not follow. He tore through, and was commencing to chuckle at his success--when just out of the farther edge of the fallen trees and tangled underbrush he bolted almost into an Indian, horseback, galloping as if to overhaul him. "The goose is cooked," thought Simon. He had had no time in which to freshen his priming. He stopped short. He heard the sound of pursuit in the jungle behind him. No use. The Indian on horseback acted very good-natured; smiled widely, held out his hand, as he approached, and greeted with: "Brudder. How-do, brudder?" "Consarn your yaller hide, I'd 'brudder' you if my gun would fire," thought Simon. But he did not say so. He leveled his piece, and called: "Hey, you! Wait a minute. If I surrender, you treat me well? No hurt?" "No harm, brudder. Treat good. No shoot, no get hurt. Fine man." "I'll bet you're lyin'," thought Simon. The Indian arrived, to shake hands. Simon watchfully consented. His hand was grasped, the grip instantly fastened upon it, would not loosen--"Tarnation! Let go, I tell you!" growled Simon, and with his other arm swung his gun wrathfully. At the moment the Indian who had followed him through the thicket landed like a panther upon his back and pinioned him tightly. It all was up with Simon. He struggled in vain. The horseback Indian "seized him by the hair of his head and shook him until his teeth rattled." Other Indians rushed joyously in. They scolded him with shrill tongues and belabored him with their ramrods. "Hoss tief, hey? Big rascal, hey? Steal Injun's hoss, hey? One rascal white man, hey?" At every "hey" their ramrods fell; they cuffed him until his ears rang, and he rather believed that they were going to beat him to death then and there. Plainly enough they were the owners of the horses. On a sudden they ceased, and stared. Brave Montgomery had appeared, summoned by the noise. He was standing yonder, among the thinned trees, trying to freshen the priming of his rifle. Two Indians darted for him at once. They pursued him amidst the trees--all vanished--two rifle shots spoke; the Indians came back waving a scalp, which they thrust into Simon's face as promise that his own should soon join it. Thus Montgomery perished, in a long chance of rescuing his partner. But he could have done nothing. He only proved himself to be the kind that never leaves a friend. George Clark did not know what had happened; he heard the rumpus and made off. Maybe he acted wisely. It was a hard problem. If he had killed an Indian in the party, the party would have killed Simon. Anyway, he arrived at Logan's, by himself.