The camp was aroused at an early hour the next morning, and by the time it was fairly daylight breakfast had been disposed of and the column was again in motion. The firing-squad had brought down a goodly number of buffaloes in their efforts to split the herd—enough to furnish the whole camp with a hearty meal and to enable each trooper to carry two days' cooked rations in his haversack. During the first few miles of their march there was no trail for them to follow, all traces of the thieving Kiowas having been obliterated by the hoofs of the stampeded buffaloes; but this did not interfere with the movements of the scout, who, from the start, led the way at a rapid pace. He knew the general direction in which the trail led, and that was enough for him.
"Where do you think we shall pick it up again?" asked Captain Clinton of George, who rode by his side.
"Do you see that butte?" asked George in reply, directing the officer's attention to a single high peak in the distance, which marked the south-eastern boundary of the dreaded Staked Plains. "We shall not see another drop of water until we reach that mountain, and we shall find some traces of the Indians there, if we do not find them before."
"Purty fresh!" exclaimed the scout, who had overheard every word of this conversation.
"Well, if you know better, why don't you say so?" demanded George. "Every prediction I have made so far has turned out to be correct. Now, see how far I miss it when I tell you that the Indians camped beside that butte last night."
"Then we are gaining on them?" said the captain.
"We are," was the boy's confident reply. "And for the reason that we have followed a direct course and ridden rapidly, while the Indians took a roundabout way and moved slowly, being hampered by their stolen cattle."
George's calculations proved to be correct. About three o'clock in the afternoon they again took up the trail, and followed it at a gallop. They reached the peak just before dark, and found abundant evidence that the Indians had recently camped there. The troopers halted here too to get a little rest and a wink of sleep, but at nine o'clock they were once more on the move. The next halt was made about two in the morning, and at daylight they were again in their saddles and riding ahead as rapidly as ever. The trail led them along the borders of the Staked Plains, giving some of the troopers, who had never before scouted so far in this direction, their first view of that desolate region. A gloomy-looking place it was. As far as their eyes could reach they could see nothing but sandhills, with stunted weeds and clumps of grass which seemed to be struggling hard to maintain a foothold in the arid soil.
They had marched perhaps ten miles from their last camp when George Ackerman, who was riding by Captain Clinton's side, discovered something. He looked at it for a moment, and then called the officer's attention to it.
"They have begun their tricks at last," said he. "Do you see that dark streak out there in the grass? That's a new trail. There! Mose has discovered it, and is going out to see what it looks like."
Bringing the column to a halt, the captain, accompanied by George and some of the officers, rode forward to the place where the scout, who had got down from his horse, stood bending over the trail. After he had taken plenty of time in which to make his investigations, he straightened up to announce the result.
"Four of them varmints has gone this way, cap," said he. "They've left a plain trail, on purpose to coax you to foller 'em."
"They shall be gratified," answered the captain promptly. "As my party is larger than theirs, I can stand more divisions than they can. I would as soon whip them in detail as to whip them in a lump.—Earle, take a dozen men from your troop and follow it up."
"Very good, sir," replied the lieutenant.
"Have you brought your signal-code with you? All right! If you discover anything startling, send a courier to me with the fullest details. I will follow along after the main body. Be cautious, but at the same time keep moving, for we ought to be within striking distance of those rascals in a few hours more."
The lieutenant saluted and rode back to the column, drawing his sword as he went. Dropping the weapon behind the third column of fours, he gave the order. "The first three fours, right by twos—march! Column left—march!"
This brought the selected twelve alongside the new trail, which they at once began to follow up at a gallop, waving their caps to their comrades as they rode away. By selecting his men in this way the lieutenant did not happen to take Bob Owens, who rode farther back in the column. The young soldier, who was not in the habit of being slighted when there was anything of this kind going on, was both surprised and provoked at his officer; but he afterward thanked him for choosing his men as he did, and congratulated himself on having been left behind. Mr. Wentworth gazed longingly after the lieutenant, and sometimes seemed on the point of riding in pursuit of him; but he finally made up his mind to stay with the main column.
The troopers presently resumed the march, keeping up the same rapid pace as before, and in a few minutes lost sight of Lieutenant Earle and his party, who disappeared among the sandhills. The latter must have ridden very swiftly, for shortly after noon they were a long distance from the main body, their position being pointed out by a slender column of white smoke that suddenly arose in the air.
"That's them varmints, cap," said the scout, whose eye was quick to detect the signal. "They're talkin' to each other."
"I know there is somebody where that smoke comes from, but I am not sure that they are hostiles," replied Captain Clinton. "On the contrary, I am of the opinion that the men who built that fire want to talk to me. At any rate, I shall soon know."
As the captain said this he pulled his watch from his pocket with one hand, and with the other produced a note-book, which he held ready for reference. The column was not halted, but the eye of every man in it was fastened upon the distant smoke. When it had ascended to such a height that its top seemed lost in the clouds, it was suddenly cut loose from the ground by some mysterious agency, and floated off into space. A few seconds passed, and then two balloon-shaped clouds arose in quick succession from the same spot, and George took note of the fact that when the last one arose the captain looked at his watch. Another short interval elapsed, and then two more clouds arose, and finally two more; whereupon the captain gave his knee a ringing slap and consulted his note-book.
"I knew I couldn't be mistaken," said he. "That's from Earle, and he is about to communicate with me by courier.—Push ahead now, scout, for he is on a hot trail. Hallo! have you found another?" he added as the scout, instead of obeying the order to "push ahead," suddenly drew up his horse and threw himself from his saddle. "How many have gone off this time?"
"The same number," answered the scout, "an' they were goin' somewhar too, for their ponies were movin' at full jump when they turned off here. They're up to some trick or another, but I can't tell yet what it is."
"Then we must find out, for it is our business to look into these little things. I should like to know where this trail leads to, and I want—Let me see."
The captain turned about and ran his eye over the column, which came to a halt as soon as the commanding officer was seen to stop his horse. He seemed to be in a quandary, out of which he was helped almost immediately by the sight of a soldierly figure upon which his gaze rested for a moment.
"He's the man I want," said the captain aloud.—"Ackerman, will you tell Lieutenant Smith, who is now in command of Earle's troop, that I want to see Corporal Owens?"
"Certainly, sir. May I go with him?" replied George, who knew in a moment that there was something in the wind.
The captain nodded assent, and George galloped back to the column. When he returned Bob Owens rode at his side. The captain was writing—copying something upon a piece of paper from his note-book—but he stopped long enough to return Bob's salute, although he did not say anything to him. Seeing that the officer's horse was growing restive at the delay, and that by his constant pawing and tossing of his head he disturbed his rider, who did his writing while seated in the saddle, Bob dismounted and took the animal by the bridle, and the troopers who remained in column seized the opportunity to fill and light their pipes.
"There!" said the captain at length.—"Step up here, corporal, and I will explain this to you.—Ackerman, tell Lieutenant Smith to pick out twelve good men to follow this new trail."
By the time the lieutenant had received and obeyed this order, Captain Clinton, who was a fast talker, had told the corporal just what he wanted him to do, and explained to him the contents of the paper he had copied from his note-book; and Bob, who was quick to comprehend, had caught and weighed all his words as fast as they were uttered. He then put himself at the head of his men and led them away, George Ackerman riding by his side.
"Now we are off for another lark," exclaimed Carey as soon as he and his companions had left the column out of hearing. By some chance, he and Loring and Phillips had been selected to accompany Bob on every one of his expeditions, and as they had never failed to accomplish the object for which they were sent out, they began to think that there was nothing too hard for them to undertake.
"But this may not be so much of a 'lark' as you think," said Bob; and Carey afterward recalled the words when he found himself debarred from accompanying other scouting-parties on account of a painful wound in his sword-arm. "We are not out after deserters now, but Indians."
"What are you going to do with them if you find them?" asked Loring.
"I shall make things as lively for them as I can," replied Bob. "But I don't think I shall come up with them; and the captain doesn't expect me to. He is going to follow every trail and force the Indians to go back to their agency, whether they want to go or not; that is, unless we can overhaul them before they get there."
"I know we are not out on a 'lark,'" said George Ackerman. "What would you say if we had to go into camp to-night without water?"
"Gracious!" exclaimed Phillips, looking around at the sandhills, which now shut them in on all sides. "The prospect of finding a stream or a spring is not very flattering, is it? I wish we could find one now, for the water in my canteen is just ready to boil."
"You had better be careful of it," said George, "for it is much better than none at all."
"Is there any water to be found in this country?"
"Oh yes; and this trail will take us to it by the shortest route. An Indian can't live without water any more than we can, and he knows just where to find it."
"Say, George," exclaimed Bob suddenly, "didn't I hear Mose say that when the four horses that made this trail turned off the big trail, they were going at full speed?"
George replied that he did say so.
"How did he know it?" continued Bob.
"By the looks of the tracks and the distance between them. When a horse is walking his hind foot covers about half the print made by his fore foot, and the tracks are from two and a half to three feet apart. When the horse is trotting the tracks are not so distinct, the one made by the fore foot being nearly covered up, and they are from seven to eight feet apart. When he is running the print of only one foot can be seen, as a general thing the ground about the tracks is considerably disturbed, and they are from seven to twelve feet apart."
If Carey and the rest of the squad did not learn to their entire satisfaction that they were not out on a picnic this time, the horses on which they were mounted certainly did, for before an hour had passed they were very much in need of water—so much so that Bob brought them down to a trot, and at last to a walk. At the end of another hour their riders began to suffer in the same way, and it was not long before every drop in their canteens, warm as it was, had disappeared. Whether it was the parched appearance of things around them; or the effects of the wind, which came into their faces as hot as a blast from a furnace; or the reflection of the sun's rays from the sandhills around them; or the sand itself, which arose in the air when disturbed by their horses' hoofs, and settled in their mouths and nostrils,—whether it was one or all of these causes combined that made them so very thirsty they did not think to inquire, but certain it was that they would have welcomed the discovery of a water-course more heartily now than at any other time during their march. Just how long this state of affairs was to continue they did not know, for there was not one among them who could tell whether water was five or twenty miles off. The only thing they could do was to follow the trail and await the issue of events with all the patience they could command.
After they had been separated from the main column for about three hours, two incidents happened which served to relieve the monotony of the march, and caused them, for the time being, to forget how uncomfortably hot and dusty and thirsty they were. As they were riding silently along behind George Ackerman, whose fast-walking nag had carried him some distance in advance of the squad, they saw him draw rein all of a sudden and raise his hand with a warning gesture. Then he backed his horse under cover of a convenient sandhill, and pulling his field-glass from the case he carried slung over his shoulder, he levelled it at some object that had attracted his attention, but which could not be seen by the troopers.
Bob at once ordered a halt, and rode forward to inquire into the matter. When he reached George's side he found himself on the outskirts of a sort of basin in the plain, which looked as though it might have been scooped out by the wind. It was covered with sand, and dotted here and there with little bunches of yellow grass and weeds. On the opposite side of this basin, which was perhaps a mile and a half wide, was a single horseman, who was riding toward them at a rapid pace.
"I couldn't make out, at that distance, whether he was a friend or foe, so I thought it best to warn you," said George.
"That was all right, of course. Can you make him out with your glass?"
"Very plainly. He's a soldier—one of Lieutenant Earle's men, probably."
"That's just who he is," exclaimed Bob after he had taken a look at the horseman through the field-glass. "I know him. That signal-smoke we saw just before we left the column was sent up to inform the captain that Earle had despatched a courier to him with some important news, and now we will find out what it is.—Come on, fellows," he added, waving his hand to the squad; "it is one of our own company, boys."
Bob and his companion rode out in plain view, and a few seconds later the troopers joined them. Their sudden appearance must have astonished the approaching courier, and perhaps alarmed him too, for he pulled up his horse with a jerk, and, shading his eyes with his hand, gazed at them long and earnestly. They waved their caps to reassure him, and in a few minutes he came up. The first words he uttered showed that he had already had quite enough of scouting in the Staked Plains.
"Did anybody ever see so dreary a hole as this?" said he as he lifted his cap and drew his handkerchief across his forehead—"nothing but sandhills as far as you can see, and one looks so much like another that a fellow don't know how to shape a course. It must be just fearful in here when the wind blows.—I say, corporal, where am I? and what are you doing out here?"
"I can't answer your first question, for I don't know myself," answered Bob. "I was sent out to follow a new trail we found just after you sent up that smoke. What was the meaning of it?—Carey, climb up to the top of that sandhill and tell us if you can see anything."
"Lieutenant Earle sent up that smoke to let the captain know that he was about to send him some news," replied the horseman; "and I don't see why the captain didn't send up a reply, for I don't know where to find him."
"I will point out his position as near as I can before you leave us," said Bob. "Is that news of any importance?"
"I should say it was," exclaimed the courier. "We've struck it hot, I tell you. On the banks of a little stream we found somewhere off in that direction—"
"Look here, Aleck!" exclaimed Loring; "I thought that canteen of yours looked as though it had been dipped in water not so very long ago. Why don't you pass it around? We haven't got a drop left."
"Is that so?" said the courier, who promptly unslung his canteen. "You are welcome to it, but touch it easy, so that everybody can have a taste, and don't forget to save some for Carey.—As I was saying, on the banks of that stream the scout discovered the tracks of little boots."
The troopers all uttered exclamations when they heard this, and Loring was so anxious to hear more that he forgot he was thirsty, and after holding the canteen in his hand for a moment passed it to a comrade without tasting of its contents.
"Mr. Wentworth acted as though he thought he ought to go with Lieutenant Earle's squad, and when he hears that he will be sorry that he stayed behind," observed Bob.
"Won't he, though!" said the courier.
"I suppose there is no doubt that the tracks were made by his boys?" said George.
"None whatever. How could there be? The Indians have no other prisoners with them."
"They have none that we know of," said George. "But as they visited other ranches, they may have taken other boys captive."
"How do you know that they did visit other ranches?" demanded the courier. "Mr. Wentworth didn't say anything about it in my hearing."
"Nor in mine, either," replied George. "But he did say in my hearing that he had lost not more than half a dozen horses, and the trail shows that they have more than fifty with them."
"Well," said the courier, looking down at the horn of his saddle in a brown study, "if that's the case, the Indians may have—No, they didn't, either," he added, brightening. "Mr. Wentworth told the colonel, in Lieutenant Earle's hearing, that the Indians jumped down on his ranche just after he had finished mending his oldest boy's boots. He put a patch on each one of them just under the ball of the foot, and those patches showed in the tracks."
"Ah!" exclaimed George, "that will pass for evidence."
"At any rate," continued the courier, "I was ordered to tell the captain that we were on the trail of the party who had the children. That's all the news I have, I believe.—What shall I tell the captain for you, corporal?"
"Say to him that you found me following up my trail as fast as the condition of my horses would permit," answered Bob. "It is as plain as daylight, and if I could only get some water now and then, I could follow it at a gallop.—What is it, Carey?"
"A smoke away off to the south-east," replied the soldier, who was lying flat on the top of the nearest sandhill.
Bob at once dismounted and made his way up the hill, followed by George and the courier. They did not expose their full height to view, but crept up on their hands and knees, and when they reached the top pulled off their caps before they looked over it. They knew that Indians, when they are retreating, always leave some of their number to watch the trail, and they adopted these precautions in order to avoid discovery by these rear-guards should there chance to be any in the neighborhood. The reflection of the sun's rays from the brass ornaments on their caps would have been seen by a watchful Indian at an almost incredible distance.
"I see the smoke," said Bob, pulling from his pocket the paper which Captain Clinton had given him—"Where is your watch, George? Now look for the signal."
The smoke, like the one Lieutenant Earle had sent up a few hours before, ascended in a straight, slender column for a few seconds, and then floated away out of sight. A few seconds later three little columns, shaped like the clouds which are thrown out by the discharge of a cannon, arose in the air in quick succession, followed after a little delay by three others. Bob waited and watched, but as no more clouds appeared, he knew that the signal had been made. The next thing was to find out what it meant.
"George," said he, "after those first three smokes appeared how long was it before the others were seen?"
"Just thirty seconds," replied the time-keeper.
Bob ran his eye over the paper he held in his hand, and presently found the following, which he read aloud: "Three smokes, followed at the interval of half a minute by three others, are intended to point out the position of the signalling-party."—"There you are!" said he, turning to the courier. "Fix in your mind the place from which that smoke arose, and then travel a little to the north of it, so as to allow for the captain's progress, and you will find him."
"How far away was that smoke?" asked the courier as he and his companions crept back down the hill.
"Fifteen miles," replied George.
"Whew! Well, I'll get there if I can. Who's got my canteen? Why, you have left some in it!" he added as one of the squad handed him the article in question. "Don't any of you want another taste?"
Yes, there were plenty there who could have drained the canteen to the last drop and then called for more, but knowing that the courier would have need of it before he had galloped fifteen miles under that broiling sun with the hot wind blowing upon him, they all declared that they had had enough.
After Carey and Loring had moistened their parched lips the courier sprang upon his horse and waved his farewell, while Bob and his men, feeling somewhat refreshed, took up the trail again and followed it at a trot.
The second diversion of which we have spoken occurred about an hour after Lieutenant Earle's courier left them. It was nothing more nor less than the discovery of the fact that the party of whom they were in pursuit had been joined by another warrior, whose pony's tracks came from the direction in which the lieutenant was supposed to be scouting. Bob and his men did not seem to attach much importance to this, but George did. He looked the ground over very carefully, and reached conclusions that astonished himself.
"Bob Owens," said he in a low tone as they resumed the march, "you've got another chance to put a feather in your hat—a big one, too. Lieutenant Earle will never rescue Mr. Wentworth's boys, but you can if you're smart."
Bob, who always listened in the greatest amazement (and with some incredulity, too, it must be confessed) to his friend's predictions, could only look the surprise he felt. How any one, by simply looking at a pony's track, could tell what a party of men whom he had never seen were going to do, he could not understand.
"To begin with," continued George, "our Indians expected to have an addition made to their party, and they expected also that it would be made just where it was made. How do I know that? By the looks of things. The ponies were all huddled together in one place, and they must have stood there a good while, judging by the stamping they did. Their riders must have dismounted there, for I saw the prints of their moccasins in the sand. I noticed also that the side of the nearest sandhill had been disturbed, and that told me that one of their number had climbed up there to watch for the expected warrior."
"Perhaps he was watching for us," suggested Bob.
"If he was, he wouldn't have watched for us with his feet, would he?" demanded George.
"'With his feet'?" echoed Bob.
"Yes. He would have been more likely to watch for us with his eyes."
"How do you know that he didn't?"
"Because he climbed up on our side of the hill, and that would have exposed his whole body to our view if we had been anywhere within sight of him. His eyes were turned the other way; that is, in Lieutenant Earle's direction. He wasn't afraid of being seen by us, but he took all due precautions to conceal himself from the gaze of any one who might happen to come that way from Lieutenant Earle's command; for near the place where the ponies were standing I saw the tufts of grass he had pulled up to tie around his head."
"Well, I am beat!" exclaimed Bob.
"What beats you?"
"You do: I didn't see any of those things."
"Probably you didn't, for the reason that you didn't look for them. You see, I have passed a good many years on the Plains, and I have learned that eternal vigilance is the price of a cowboy's life and liberty. When his scalp depends upon the correct reading of such signs as those which I have just described to you, he is not often caught napping. My long association with Zeke, whose eyes seemed to be everywhere, has got me into the habit of keeping my own eyes open. Probably there were other things there that would have been perfectly plain to Zeke or Mountain Mose which I didn't see.
"Now, of course I don't know that this new warrior brought Mr. Wentworth's children with him when he came over to join our Indians, but everything seems to point that way. One of the proofs—and the strongest, in my humble opinion—is found in the fact that the Indians allowed their captives to dismount on the banks of that stream the courier told us of. I am inclined to believe that they went farther than that, and compelled the boys to walk in the mud and leave their tracks there."
"I don't see why they did that," observed Bob. "I should think they would want to keep everybody from knowing where the boys were."
"So they would if they had intended to keep the boys with them, but they did not. This is their plan, as near as I can get at it; and in order to make my explanation clearer I will call the party of which Lieutenant Earle is in pursuit No. 1, that which we want to find No. 2, and that the captain is following up No. 3. The warriors in No. 1 are doubtless the best mounted of all the raiders. When they separated from the main body they left a broad trail, so that they could be easily followed, taking the children with them, and leaving now and then a sign of their presence, for no other purpose than to coax the captain to follow them with his whole force. As soon as they reached a piece of rocky ground, where a pony's feet would leave no track, one of their number picked up the boys and brought them over here, where party No. 2 was waiting for him. Those he left behind will show themselves to Lieutenant Earle occasionally, and perhaps open a little fight with him, just to induce him to continue the pursuit. Party No. 3 will drive the stock ahead as fast as possible, and get away with it if they can; but if they find that they are likely to be overtaken, they will drop the cattle and do everything they can to keep the captain on their trail, so as to give party No. 2 a chance to escape with the prisoners. Now, that's a long story, and no doubt it is a hard one to believe; but I don't think I am far from right when I tell you that it is quite in your power to carry off the honors of this expedition. Captain Clinton will have his hands full until he recovers that stock; so will Lieutenant Earle as long as he follows those will-o'-the-wisps in front of him; and to you will be left the duty, as well as the privilege, of looking out for the safety of Mr. Wentworth's little boys."
"Whew!" panted Bob, who was very much impressed, although not wholly convinced, by his companion's clear and forcible reasoning. "Then I am the chief man in this scout, am I? Suppose—I say, just suppose—I should be lucky enough to rescue those boys alive and unharmed, what would the fellows say? What would Mr. Wentworth say?"
"The boys would cheer you, and you would win Mr. Wentworth's everlasting gratitude," replied George. "But, Bob, the prisoners have not been rescued yet, and I warn you that unless you are as sly as a fox you will be the means of their death. If the Indians discover you, and find themselves unable to escape, their very first act will be to kill those boys."
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Bob, dropping his reins upon the horn of his saddle and pulling off his cap with one hand while he scratched his head vigorously with the other. "Good gracious! The captain never thought of that when he sent me off with this squad, did he? George, the responsibility is too heavy for me. I think I'll ask the captain where he is, and then go and report to him."
"That wouldn't be a very smart trick," protested George. "You would not only be taken to task for wasting valuable time, but the Indians, seeing a smoke that they couldn't understand arise on their trail, would take the alarm at once, and you would lose a fine chance of distinguishing yourself."
"Don't you suppose they saw the smoke that Lieutenant Earle sent up?"
"Of course they did—the captain's too. Those same smokes were a good thing for us, for I am of the opinion that they threw our party off their guard by leading them to believe they are not pursued. You mustn't send up a smoke along this trail if you want to catch those Indians. What are your orders, anyhow?"
"To follow the trail until I am recalled or until the Indians throw me off entirely," replied Bob.
"Then don't you see that you would be disobeying orders by marching your squad back to the column without a recall?" asked George. "You would surely get yourself into trouble by doing that, and besides, you would be hauled over the coals for not taking better care of your men and horses. They couldn't stand twenty miles more to-night without a rest, and how much of a rest could they get here in this oven, with no grass or water? Don't do it, Bob."
"But the prisoners—just think of the prisoners!" exclaimed the perplexed corporal. "I don't want to feel that I am responsible for any harm that may befall them."
"I don't see how you are going to shirk it."
"Well, will you take command?"
"Certainly not," answered George quickly. "Don't confess your incapacity by surrendering your authority. Besides, a scout never commands—he only advises; and I will help you in that way all I can. Go on, and say that you will do your best."
"I will," said Bob, slamming his cap upon his head and seating himself firmly in his saddle. "If we can only place ourselves in a position to cover those boys, the Indians will not have a chance to touch them, I'll bet you. My men are all good marksmen."
"And I am a tolerable one myself," said George. "A single hair of those boys' heads is worth the lives of all the Indians that ever saw the Staked Plains, and if it becomes necessary to shoot in their defence, I am ready. There is a high sandhill, and if you will stop here for a few minutes I will go up and see if I can discover anything."
Bob raised his hand to halt the squad, and George swung himself out of his saddle. His first care was to lay aside his cap and rifle, and his next to pull up a quantity of grass and weeds to be used as a screen. With these in one hand and his field-glass in the other he crept slowly to the top of the sandhill, and, holding the screen a few inches above the ground, he pushed his field-glass under it and looked around.
"Aha!" was his mental exclamation, "I shall have good news to carry back to the boys. There's a deep gully about five miles off, and there must be a stream of water running through it, or else those willows would not be growing there. I wish we had got here an hour earlier, for then I should have had daylight to aid me in making my observations. The Indians probably halted in that gully a few hours ago, and the question to be decided now is—Hallo! If that isn't smoke rising among those trees, what is it? And didn't that little cluster of bushes over there on the top of that hill shift its position just now?"
George's heart beat wildly as he propounded these inquiries to himself. He took another long look, and then with a very slow and gradual motion he deposited his screen upon the sand and backed down to the plain. His stealthy movements told the troopers that he had seen something.
"Corporal," said he as they rode up to him, "before you ask any questions let me suggest that you order your men to remove their sabres as quietly as possibly."
Bob quickly unhooked his own sabre from his belt, and looked at his men, who made all haste to follow his example. They knew that there could be but one reason for this order. A steel scabbard hanging by the side of a careless rider will strike against his spurs with every step his horse takes, or rattle against his leg as the trooper walks about, giving out a clear ringing sound that will betray his presence to foes far less watchful and sharp-eared than Indians.
"So we have run them into their holes, have we?" said Bob when he had acted upon George's suggestion.
"That remains to be seen. They are camped about five miles from here, and one of their lookouts is watching the trail."
The troopers looked at Bob as if to ask what he was going to do about it, and Bob, who had as little idea of the orders he ought to give under the circumstances as he had of the Greek language, looked at George. The latter did not say anything, for he wanted the troopers to hold fast to their belief that the corporal was able to act for himself in any and every emergency; but he gave his friend a look that was plainly understood.
"Dismount," commanded Bob; "we'll rest here until we can determine upon something. Let every man keep fast hold of his horse, for a neigh from one of them would make dough of our cake in a little less than no time. Eat and whisper as much as you please, but—"
"Don't smoke," put in George.
"Oh, Moses!" ejaculated the troopers in subdued tones.
"An Indian will smell smoke from a pipe or a camp-fire a long distance," added George.
"Then keep your pipes in your pockets, where they can't do any mischief," said Bob.—"George, I'd like to take a look at that camp."
George at once led the way up the hill, but when he neared the top he said in a whisper,
"Perhaps you had better trust to my eyes instead of your own; not but that you can see as far as I can, but you might be a little careless in handling that screen, and the least false motion on your part would be seen by that lookout, whose eyes are as good as a telescope."
"All right!" replied Bob, who wondered what he should have done if George had not been there to advise him. "What shall we do?"
"Let me take another look, and then I will talk to you."
So saying, George crept back to the top of the hill and looked under his screen as before. It was rapidly growing dark, but he could see that the sentry still kept his position, and that the camp-fire was burning brightly.
"They do not stand in the least fear of pursuit," said he as he backed down to Bob's side, "but they have taken measures to prevent surprise, as they always do when they are on the war-path."
"How long do you suppose that sentry will stay there?"
"Just as long as his friends stay in the gully. I do not mean by that that this particular Indian will act as lookout all the time, but that some member of the party will be constantly on the watch."
The first thing to be done was to decide upon a plan of operations, and this took a good deal of hard thinking, for there was a good deal depending upon it. George made the most of the suggestions, and Bob accepted every one of them without argument. The camp was to be attacked as soon as they could get within reach of it: both were agreed upon that. Bob advised a surround, in order to prevent the escape of any of the Indians; but George objected, urging as a reason for his objections that no one but an Indian could work his way through those thick bushes and trees without making a good deal of noise, and that would knock the whole thing in the head.
"Don't be too ambitious," said he. "Don't try to grab too big a handful, and so run the risk of losing everything. Keep your men near you, so that you can have an eye on every one of them. Look out for the boys; and if by so doing you give the Indians a chance to escape, as you will most likely, let them go and welcome."
An immediate advance having been resolved upon, and the part that each man was to play in the coming fight (provided the Indians decided to make a fight of it) having been thoroughly discussed, Bob and his companion returned to the place where they had left the troopers. The former issued his orders in a few brief words, and in a very short space of time eight barefooted men, armed only with their carbines and revolvers, were drawn up in line ready to do his further bidding; while the four troopers who were to be left behind to hold the horses and to take care of the sabres, shoes and stockings which their lucky comrades had thrown upon the ground, listened with as good grace as they could to a few parting words from their corporal.
"Now, boys," said the latter, "keep quiet and don't smoke. We have been following the trail of only five Indians, but we don't know how many may have joined them since they went into camp; so you must hold yourselves in readiness for any emergency. Keep a good lookout for the signal, and if you don't see it by the time the moon rises, which will be about midnight, take care of yourselves. Draw as straight a course for the column as you can, and tell the boys, when you find them, that the reds got the best of us while we were trying to do our duty. Good-bye.—Lead on, George."
Although our hero had passed his life amid scenes of danger, and more than once listened to the sound of hostile bullets (that was during the "neighborhood row" of which we have spoken in the first volume of this series), he had never before taken part in a scout after Indians, and it may be readily imagined that Bob's parting words did not serve to encourage him in any great degree. Bob seemed to think that there was a possibility that their attempted surprise might end in utter defeat. The bare thought was enough to make George's hair stand on end, but it did not make him lose any of the sympathy he felt for the boy-captives or falter in his resolve to do all he could toward effecting their release. In obedience to Bob's order to "lead on" he raised his rifle to his shoulder and glided off into the darkness, the troopers following in single file. Before he had marched half a mile Bob hurried up and placed himself by his side.
"Say, George," he whispered, "you are not going toward the camp. If you follow this course, you will miss it by half a mile or more."
"I don't want to go toward the camp," was the reply. "We must circle around so as to come up in the rear of that sentry, who, as I told you, will stay on the top of that hill as long as his friends stay in the gully."
"Do you think we can capture him without alarming the others?"
"We are not going to try; at least, I sha'n't advise it. If we can save the boys, we ought to be satisfied. That sentry will dig out as soon as he scents danger, and all we can do is to let him go."
"How awful still it is, and how fearful dark!" continued Bob. "I hope you won't get confused and miss your way."
"There is no danger of that," replied George confidently. "I can see the stars, and they are as good as a compass to me. I have often travelled by them, and they have never fooled me yet."
"Where are the wolves, I wonder?" said Bob, who was so impatient and so highly excited that he could not long hold his peace. "They keep up their unearthly howls every night when we wish them a thousand miles away, but now, when a yelp from one of them would be a relief, they don't put in an appearance."
"And I am glad of it," said George. "Don't you know that a pack of wolves are the best sentries a camping-party can have?"
Yes, Bob said he was aware of that fact.
"Well," continued George, "don't you see that the little breeze there is stirring is blowing from us toward the camp? If there were any wolves around, they would probably be on the other side of the gully, for it would be a waste of time for them to prowl around here among these sandhills, where they couldn't find even a rabbit to eat. The moment they caught our wind they would scamper off, and then 'Good-bye, prisoners.' I wish I knew where those Indians have staked out their ponies, for I stand more in fear of them than I do of that sentry. If we should get to windward of them, they would kick up a rumpus directly."
The longer Bob talked with George the more clearly the difficulties attending his undertaking seemed to stand but before him, and the greater grew his anxiety and impatience. If his attempt to surprise the Indian camp failed, there was no telling when Mr. Wentworth's boys would be heard of again. If it suited their captors to spare their lives, they would doubtless be sold to some band who lived at a great distance from the agency, and who would take the greatest pains to keep their existence a profound secret. If they were ever given up at all, it would only be after that particular band had been soundly thrashed for some outrage, and then they would be brought forward as an element in the "peace negotiations," their captors demanding a heavy ransom and taking great credit to themselves for surrendering them. But this might not happen for years, and during that time a great many things might happen to the boys. They might become so completely broken down by cruel treatment that their death would be a blessing, or else so thoroughly infatuated with the Indian mode of life that, if left to themselves, they would choose to go back to the wigwams of their savage masters rather than return to the home of their father.
"It's now or never," said Bob to himself after he had thought the matter over. "I don't wonder that Mr. Wentworth feels so spiteful, for if these Indians are not killed during this scout, they will never be punished for what they have done to him. The government is too tender-hearted to touch them, and if Mr. Wentworth takes the law into his own hands, he will be sure to suffer for it. They will go back to their agency to grow fat on government grub and be kept warm in winter by government blankets; and their agent, in order to prevent an investigation that might take a few dollars out of his pocket, will be ready to swear that they have never been off their reservation. I wonder how he would feel if he saw his own children carried into captivity?"
For two long hours the weary troopers continued the march, stopping for rest only when Bob and George climbed some sandhill to reconnoitre the ground before them. The deep silence that brooded over the Staked Plains was almost oppressive. The bare feet of the troopers gave out no sound as they sank into the yielding sand, and all that could be heard was their labored breathing as they walked behind their leader, trusting implicitly to his guidance. They never uttered a word, but Bob's impatience and nervousness would have kept his tongue in constant motion had it not been for George, who gave him an energetic prod in the ribs whenever he showed a disposition to become colloquial. He felt that he must do something pretty soon or sink under his burden of responsibility, which seemed to grow heavier the longer he walked; consequently, when George stopped all of a sudden and silently pointed his finger at a dense wall of trees that ran across their path, his delight knew no bounds. The ravine in which the Indians were encamped was close in front of them. The murmuring of the waterfall which came up from its wooded depths was a pleasant sound to his ears, but he and his troopers had much to do before they could quench their thirst at that rippling stream.