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of the Navaho’s stomach. The stricken man fell backwards, his hands around the hilt. At the same time, Benoni felt a blow in his side, and he staggered back from the force. Though he felt no pain, only a numbness, he knew he was wounded. Looking downward, he saw the Indian’s knife sticking out from between his right ribs. It was not in more than an inch, but blood was welling out from around the steel.
    The other two Navahos, yelling, had also gained their feet by now. One picked up a short spear from the ground. The other grabbed up a bow with one hand and an arrow with the other. Benoni, screaming, picked up a rock and rushed at the bowman. The Indian fitted the notch to the bow and raised the bow and arrow as a single piece, pulling back as he did so. Benoni threw his rock; it flew straight and smashed into the man’s throat. But not before he loosed the arrow.
    Benoni felt another blow, this time in the chest just below the shoulderbone. He fell backwards upon the ground, then sat up. The Indian must not have had a chance to draw the arrow back to the head, for the arrow had not gone in deeper than the head. Nevertheless, Benoni was out of the fight.
    The only Navaho standing raised his spear as if to throw. Then, changing his mind, he lowered it, gripped it with both hands, and charged Joel.
    Joel looked desperately around for a weapon. None was within reach, none except the arrow and the knife sticking from Benoni’s flesh. And it was one of them that Joel took, tearing the knife from between Benoni’s ribs. Benoni cried out, but it was done so swiftly he could not resist. If he had had time to think, he would have told Joel to do it. Otherwise, both would be dead.
    Joel stooped, picked up a rock, and ran at the Navaho. A few feet from him, he threw the rock. The Navaho ducked; the rock shot past his head. Joel shifted the knife to his right hand, and his left hand shot out. The Navaho came up out of his dodging maneuver a little off balance. Joel caught the spear shaft with his hand but not without closing it around the head first and cutting his hand. He jerked backwards. The Navaho, clinging to his spear, was pulled headlong. Joel pulled the spear towards him as he fell, twisted, and the spear drove between his arm and body. His right hand came up with the knife. The blade drove into the Indian’s belly. The Indian screamed and fell beside Joel. Joel pulled the knife out and plunged it into the Navaho’s throat.
    Then, there was silence. Even the horses, which had been screaming, were quiet. Benoni looked down at the ravaged place on his side from which the knife had been so savagely jerked. The blood was flowing fast now, and the pain was beginning to come. Also, he was starting to feel the arrowhead in his shoulder.
    There was nothing to do but try to work the arrow loose, even if it meant more loss of blood. He batted the flies away from the two wounds and closed his left hand around the shaft and began to move it slowly.
    Joel, breathing hard, came up to him, and he said, “You’ll never be able to do that by yourself.”
    He pulled the arrow loose with one easy motion. Benoni clenched his teeth to keep from screaming, and he felt faint. For a moment, the world swam, then it came back into focus. He saw Joel standing over him holding the bloody knife and arrow and smiling. Smiling.
    “Looks as if you won’t make it, friend,” said Joel. “Too bad, too.”
    “I’ll make it all right,” said Benoni. “I’ll live to take those scalps back to Fiiniks.”
    “I don’t see how you can say that,” said Joel. “Since I’m taking those scalps.”
    “You!” said Benoni. “You only killed one man. The rest are mine.”
    Still smiling, Joel said, “Now, how are you going to scalp a man when you haven’t even the strength to walk? And’ll be dead in an hour or so? No, it’d be pure waste to leave all that fine black hair here to rot.”
    “Maybe you should take my scalp, too,” said Benoni. He