But it was hard to hold one's fire when the thud of those charging hoofs was coming closer.
The horsemen in front of him were four in number, and the leader who wore a brilliant feathered headdress, seemed to be a chief.

Ned chose him for his target, but for a few moments the Lipan made his pony bound from side to side in such a manner that he could not secure a good aim.
But his chance came.

The Lipan raised his head and opened his mouth to utter a great shout of encouragement to his followers.

The shout did not pass his lips, because Ned's bullet struck him squarely in the forehead, and he fell backward from his horse, dead before he touched the ground.
Ned heard Obed's rifle crack with his own, but he could not turn his head to see the result.

He snatched up his pistol and fired a second shot which severely wounded a Lipan rider, and then all three parties of the Lipans, fearing the formidable hedge, turned and galloped back, leaving two of their number lifeless upon the ground.
Obed had not fired his pistol, but he stood holding it in his hand, his eyes flashing with grim triumph.