The pony did not change its position. Jack knew. So, after a moment of waiting, the scout risked moving on. He came finally to the edge of the brush, and there the horse stood--not three yards away from him! And from where he crouched the scout could see more than the bulk of the pony’s body against the sky-line. It was bestrode by an Indian in head-dress and blanket. It was doubtless one of the chiefs who had started to ride around the fort. Would he ride on and not suspect the presence of the white man in the bushes? But perhaps, in his nervousness, Texas Jack had not imitated the porcupine true enough to satisfy the keen ear of the Indian. Or else the porcupine’s grunt was a private signal between this chief and his own men. However, Texas Jack saw the redskin force his pony nearer the thicket, and he heard its rider twitter like a bird disturbed at night in its nest. “Old man, you’ve got the best of me!” thought the scout. “I can’t answer that signal, for I don’t know what the answer _is_. It’s a bad thing for you!” There was no time for hesitation. Again the scout had to take life or be killed himself. The scout was a good shot with the bow and arrows as he was with rifle or pistol. And he must use a silent weapon to get rid of this foe. It was too far to leap with his knife. The bow and arrows of the dead chief came in handy. In a flash the crouching scout fitted an arrow to the bowstring and drew the shaft to its head. There he waited, still as a graven image, until the horse and rider were almost upon him. Then he let drive the arrow. It sped with fearful force, aimed at the throat of the red chieftain that all death-cry might be stilled. True was the aim and fatal the shot. The arrow penetrated the Indian’s throat, and its head stuck out a hand’s breadth at the back of his neck. Without a sound the Indian toppled from the pony’s back. The horse snorted and sprang forward. His escape might have been as dire a calamity for the scout as the death-yell of the chieftain. If the pony dashed away across the valley, the sentinels would surely be aroused. But the animal made but one leap. Like a shadow Texas Jack leaped up and caught the rawhide bridle which had been snatched from the dead man’s hand. He brought the pony to an abrupt halt. Instantly he swung himself upon the bare back of the animal, well used to riding Indian fashion, and guided him to the other side of the thicket, leaving the chief where he had fallen. He did not stop to strip him of his arms; he had quite all he could carry, and he wanted his own rifle. All seemed to have gone well, and it looked to the scout at that moment as though the way before him to the fort was clear sailing. But just as he was congratulating himself on this belief a wild and ear-splitting yell arose on the night, and from a spot not far in his rear. First one voice and then another took up the yell--it was the warning of the red man when he finds the trail of the secret enemy!