"Fire, boys! Fire at once!" cried the Panther.
A deadly volley was poured into the Comanche band. The Indians replied,
but were soon compelled to give way. The Panther, raising his voice,
shouted in tremendous tones:
"Rescue! Rescue! We're here, boys!"
The defenders of the cabin, hearing the volleys and the shouts of their
friends, opened the door and rushed out of the cabin, rifle in hand.
Caught between two forces, the Comanches gave up and rushed to the
plain, where they had left their ponies. Jumping upon the backs of
these, they fled like the wind.
The two victorious parties met and shook hands.
"We're mighty glad to see you, Panther," said Fields, grinning. "You
don't look like an angel, but you act like one, an' I see you've brought
a lot of new angels with you."
"Yes," replied the Panther, with some pride in his voice, "an' the first
of the angels is Davy Crockett. Mr. Crockett, Mr. Fields."
The men crowded around to shake hands with the renowned Davy. Meanwhile
a small party brought the four Tennesseans and the horses. Fortunately
the Comanches had fled in the other direction. But it was not all joy in
the Texan camp. Two silent figures covered with serapes were stretched
on the floor in the cabin, and several others had wounds, although they
had borne their part in the fighting.
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