waddled after him to the top of the rise, screaming:--

"The white thief, he has stolen my horse, and the gun too, the gun that
he promised to give me."

Hadden, who by this time was a hundred yards away, heard him clearly,
and a rage filled his heart. This man had made an open murderer of him;
more, he had been the means of robbing him of the girl for whose sake he
had dipped his hands in these iniquities. He glanced over his shoulder;
Maputa was still running, and alone. Yes, there was time; at any rate he
would risk it.

Pulling up the pony with a jerk, he leapt from its back, slipping
his arm through the rein with an almost simultaneous movement. As it
chanced, and as he had hoped would be the case, the animal was a trained
shooting horse, and stood still. Hadden planted his feet firmly on the
ground and drawing a deep breath, he cocked the rifle and covered the
advancing chief. Now Maputa saw his purpose and with a yell of terror
turned to fly. Hadden waited a second to get the sight fair on his broad
back, then just as the soldiers appeared above the rise he pressed the
trigger. He was a noted shot, and in this instance his skill did not
fail him; for, before he heard the bullet tell, Maputa flung his arms
wide and plunged to the ground dead.

Three seconds more, and with a savage curse, Hadden had remounted the
pony and was riding for his life towards the river, which a while later
he crossed in safety.