A shot drew James’ attention as he looked to his left. The second Indian, with his knife drawn, and not five feet away from Lieutenant Hobbs, was being thrown backwards from the gunshot blast to his stomach. Then the sound of brush being swept aside drew James attention as he turned and looked into the eyes of the first brave rushing toward him not five feet away. No time to raise his gun to shoot, James swung the stock in an upward arch, just before the Redman crashed into him. The Indian saw James and instinctively dived to his right, the wooden stock catching him on the shoulder. The brave fell to the ground, rolled and, in an instant, was up on his feet, a long knife in his hand. Even in a drunken stupor, the Indian still had plenty of fight left in him. James pulled his own lon
