Chen Jianqiu and Sean quickly returned to the door of Mark Twain's room.

The five detectives at the aisle junction ran back, and they quickly returned to their positions, all while staring warily out of the train.

"What's wrong?" Chen Jianqiu asked the familiar detective casually, it seemed that he was the small leader of these people.

"The Indians are coming, I guess the same gang from the night before. They're coming to hijack the train. ”

Train hijacking? I'm afraid it's a hostage-taking.

The gunshots were already "crackling", and it seemed that the rear part of the car had already begun to turn in fire.

"Aren't you going to help?" Chen Jianqiu leaned against the door and asked.

"Head, I think this gentleman has a point, we have to go to support, otherwise the boss will say that we are rice buckets again, and there will be no share of us when the money is divided at the end of the year." One next to him agreed with Chen Jianqiu's words.

The detective leader hesitated for a moment, then looked back at the second room that Chen Jianqiu and Sean had just opened, and then made up his mind and pointed to the two detectives closest to him:

"You two, follow me to the front, and the rest of you stay here."

He turned to Chen Jianqiu: "Brother, please help take care of the points here, if the Indians get close, they will be killed directly." ”

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Chen Jianqiu said to the detective leader with certainty.

The three detectives then ran to the back of the car with their guns in hand.

At the same time, Chen Jianqiu felt the sound of footsteps coming from the roof of the car, and the well-trained detectives were running over the roof of the car to support in the direction of the rear of the car.

He walked to the window of the aisle, opened the curtain, and looked out.

The train was now crossing a wasteland, and behind the side of the train, a group of Indians were riding horses, rushing down a bare hill and approaching the rear of the train.

They had come directly to the carriage the night before, or in other words, to save their high priest.

Chen Jianqiu saw clearly the appearance of the Indian who rushed to the front.

The man was the same man he had fought in the carriage the night before, and he was now dressed in the classic Indian costume, with his long hair draped over his shoulders and his eyes glazed over.

"Jeronimo, it's Jeronimo!" The detective next to Chen Jianqiu exclaimed.

Geronimo?

Chen Jianqiu frowned, according to the information he obtained from Adam, this person should have been dealing with the US military in the southwest of the United States for a long time, and he had already practiced slippery.

As a last resort, he would never choose to take the initiative to attack a train armed with elite Pinkerton, let alone chase a train in the open wilderness in broad daylight, which means that the casualties will not be small.

After 1860, the Apache warriors really died one less than one.

But, how could the chieftain of Apache not know this.

But the priest imprisoned in the train, both his teacher and his few remaining close friends, would not give up the lives of any of his people, let alone this respected spiritual leader.

Even if you risk your own life, you have to save him.

"Luo Cen, take the people with you to cover on the side, and I will board the car with the bulls!"

“Ya！”

Behind Jeronimo flashed a woman in an Indian dress, who raised the reins, shouted, and rode out of the queue with a dozen horses.

Pinkerton's detectives were already on the deck outside the Astor box, and they leaned into cover and began to shoot at the Indians.

Loczen lifted the Henry 1860 repeater rifle in her hand, leaned forward slightly, focused on aiming, and fired two consecutive shots in front of her.

Two Pinkerton detectives were shot, one of them was dragged behind by the men next to them, and the other was not so lucky, and fell straight forward, climbed over the railing, and fell off the train, falling into a bloody blur.

The Henry 1860 was the finest gun an Apache Indian could have come of, and it came from an American corporal who died at the hands of Geronimo's axe.

It was awarded to Roczen, one of the most courageous female warriors in the history of North American Indians.

After the first kill, the Apache warriors began to follow their female warriors and attack the Pinkerton detectives on the train.

The weapons in the hands of the Indian warriors were not advanced, except for a few soldiers who had guns, and the weapons in the hands of others were even bows and arrows, broadswords and spears.

They have a natural disadvantage in range.

What's more, they still chased the train on horseback, and the advantage of cavalry speed was greatly weakened.

The detectives' guns began to fire in a dense manner, and Russell did not think that his men would be left behind against the Indians.

Indian warriors were constantly shot down and dismounted, shot from different locations, but fell from their horses at high speed, and were seriously wounded, if not killed.

Geronimo glanced at the unknown warriors behind him, his teeth about to crush, and he kicked Appaloosama beneath him fiercely, speeding towards the carriage where the priest was being held.

Pinkerton's detectives came within range of their bows, and Geronimo, crouched on his horse, dodged a bullet that was fired at him, and bent his bow to aim at a detective who was shooting at Rotzen.

"Whoosh!"

The finger that tapped the bow and arrow released, and a feathered arrow burst through the air, slicing through the air and striking the detective directly in the neck.

The detective was pierced in the neck and died on the spot.

A rain of arrows came from the back of the car, and the Indian warriors' arrows were so accurate that at least three or five Pinkerton detectives couldn't dodge the arrows.

But when one of them ducked behind cover and pulled out the arrow from his arm, he found that the blood he was bleeding had turned dark purple.

"Arrows are poisonous!" His voice was hoarse and full of despair.

"Hurry up! Don't let them get close to the train! Russell knew the power of these Indians when they got close.

The detectives' return fire is more intense, their weapons are more advanced, they are more trained, and their shooting accuracy is very high.

Geronimo's heart shuddered with every Indian soldier who had followed him for years in the western part of the United States.

But when I asked them if they wanted to participate in this rescue operation, they all chose yes without hesitation.

He draws arrows from the quiver faster and faster, and with each arrow that flies out, a Pinkerton detective gets an arrow, and then faces death on the spot or a day when life is worse than death for decades to come.

And the gunfire on Loczen's side never stopped, and she used the gunfire to announce the arrival of death on the other side.

Indian warriors are getting closer and closer to the train.

Seeing that the form was not right, Russell called out to a stout bearded detective beside him and gave him an order.

The man led another man to the bucket cart with coal at the tail.

The two of them came to the bucket truck, and the beard unfastened the chain on the edge of the bucket truck, and the four surrounding baffles fell off.

All the coal in the bucket cart slides down the bottom of the wagon onto the rails, revealing what was previously covered under the coal.

A Gatling gun.

Two more

Thank you for the big monthly pass that the lazy loves to be late

(End of chapter)