Ned was rapidly reloading his rifle.
"If we didn't burn their noble Lipan faces then I'm mightily mistaken," said Obed, as he too began to reload his rifle.

"A charge that is not pressed home is no charge at all.

Hark, what is that ?" There was a sudden crash of rifle shots in the forest, the long whining whoop of the Lipans and then hard upon it a deep hoarse cheer.
"White men!" exclaimed Ned.
"And Texans!" said Obed.

"Such a roar as that never came from Mexican throats.

It's friends! Do you hear, Ned, it's friends! There go the Indians!" Across the far edge of the open went the Lipans in wild flight, and, as they pressed their mustangs for more speed, bullets urged them to efforts yet greater.