I knew that the little animal was very swift for a short distance, but that he would be badly handicapped by the weight of two men.
I realized that my old Buckskin Joe was tired but his staying qualities were such that I was sure he would overtake Powder Face, carrying double weight.
Though I was not a hundred yards behind the object of my pursuit when the second Indian mounted I was afraid to shoot.

It was not yet quite daylight.

I feared to fire lest I hit my beloved pony.

For two miles I followed through the sandhills before I dared to use my rifle.
The Indian riding at the rear had a revolver with which he kept banging away, but I paid little attention to him.

I knew a man shooting behind with a pistol was likely to hit nothing but air.