The night passed slowly away without a single signal of danger.
As the first gray streaks of dawn began to appear, Abe, returning from a prolonged scout on the prairie, met Dave who had just woke from an hour’s nap.
“Well, any sign?”
“Nary sign. Thar hain’t been a red devil within a mile of us last night, I’ll bet,” replied Abe.
“Can they have thought we are too strong for them and given us up?”
“No, I don’t think that,” responded Abe, thoughtfully. “I tell you, this ‘White Vulture’ is jist as smart as they make ’em. He knows that we of course suspect that an attack would be made, ’cos we saw him. Now, of course, he knows that we’ll be on our guard ag’in’ the attack; so he just waits; he lets two or three days go by; we don’t see any Injun sign; we git careless—don’t keep up our watch—don’t look for an attack—an’ then he comes down onto us like a panther, claws an’ all. Two days more, at the rate we are going at, will bring us to where the trail crosses the Yellowstone an’ strikes off to the north-west to Codotte’s Pass. Wal, now, in ’bout three days, when we’re between the Yellowstone an’ the Missouri, heading for the Missouri, he’ll go for us.”
“There is sense in what you say,” said Dave.
“Sartain, I’m a nigger if thar ain’t; but though I think I’ve got the Injun’s plan down to a p’int, I ain’t a-going to be caught napping afore we leave the Yellowstone, ’cos he may go for us at any moment; therefore I shall keep my eyes open.”
Breakfast was prepared and the emigrants, after partaking of it, again took up their line of march.
We will now return to the “White Vulture” we left flying for his life across the prairie. Mounted on the milk-white steed, that was indeed a horse of matchless action, he crossed the Yellowstone and rode in a south-western direction. His way lay across a rolling prairie dotted here and there with little clumps of timber. Ever and anon he turned in his saddle and listened for the sounds of pursuit. Satisfied at last that no one was on his trail, he drew rein beside one of the little clumps of timber; dismounted, tethered his horse to a stunted oak, then taking from his pouch some dried buffalo-meat, cured in the sun, he made a scanty meal, then after a careful scout around his immediate neighborhood, he laid himself down upon the prairie and slept. The white steed, that had evidently been reared among the Indians and understood their customs, slept calmly by the side of its master.