King of the Wild Frontier!
written by
David Thompson

BLOOD RAGE

  Davy lunged to his knees, elevating Liz, his rifle.   He was about to take a bead when Sontag crashed out of the grass and slammed into him like a two-legged battering ram.
  Bowled over, Davy held on to Liz.  Once more he heaved onto one knee.   Once more he slapped her to his shoulder.  Too late, he saw a rifle stock arcing toward him.  He brought up Liz to ward off the blow but instead Liz was knocked out of his hands.
  Sontag closed in.  He was a broad man with a barrel chest and a sawtooth scar on his left cheek.  His dark eyes glittered with sadistic relish.  Here was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain.  Here was a killer, plain and simple.

COMANCHE COUNTRY

  A new sound fell on their ears--a sullen rumble, swelling to the crescendo of thunder.  Davy twisted in the saddle and his breath choked off in his throat.  Not from the smoke or the heat, but from the scores of huge humped brutes pounding in their wake.  Scores of shaggy buffalo, living steam engines capable of bowling over and then trampling any living thing under their driving hooves.
  The hear, terrified by the inferno, was rushing to escape searing death.   Eyes dilated, mostrils distended, they stampeded in a compact mass, reducing the grass to pulverized bits.  As Davy looked on, a deer blindly bolted in their path.   It was a doe, as terror-stricken as the bison.  The poor creature vented a plaintive wavering bleat before vanishing under the brown tide.
  Davy could have sworn that he heard the crunch of her bones.  Spurring on the sorrel, he yelled at Becky, "Ride, girl! Ride!"