They ran to secure it.

The reserve party, however, galloped by, whooping and yelling in triumph and derision.

The last of them proved to be their commander, the identical giant joker already mentioned.

He was not cast in the stern poetical mold of fashionable Indian heroism, but on the contrary, was grievously given to vulgar jocularity.

As he passed Mr.Stuart and his companions, he checked his horse, raised himself in his saddle, and clapping his hand on the most insulting part of his body, uttered some jeering words, which, fortunately for their delicacy, they could not understand.