The muzzle of his rifle rested upon the log beside his pistol, and, with his eye looking down the sights, he was watching for whatever might come.
A sharp whistle sounded from the wood.

At the same instant, three bands of Lipans galloped from the trees at different points, and converged upon the little fortress.

They were all naked to the waist, and the sun blazed down upon their painted bodies, lighting up their lean faces and fierce eyes.

They uttered shout after shout, as they advanced, and as they came closer, bent down behind the shoulders of their ponies or clung to their sides.
The tremor of the nerves seized Ned again, but it was gone in a moment.
Then a fierce passion turned the blood in his veins to fire.

Why were these savages seeking his life?
Why had they hung upon his trail for days and days?
And why had they kept up that silent and invincible siege so long?
Yet he did not forget his earlier resolution to watch for a good shot, knowing that his life hung upon it.