“Yes, I did notice it.”
“Wal, I was behind the train, an’ I noticed that after we passed, the ducks settled back again to the river. Wal, ’bout half an hour arterwards that same flock of ducks flew over our heads, going to the north-west. Wal—whatever disturbed those ducks were about half an hour behind us, or, say, in distance, ’bout four miles. Now, when we disturbed the ducks they flew up an’ then flew back, but this time they flew off. That convinces me that they were disturbed by a large party of Injuns, perhaps shot at by them with arrows. What do you think?”
“I think you are right, Abe, and probably to-night we shall be attacked,” replied Dave, his eyes growing earnest in their look and his brows contracting as he thought of the danger to which his beloved Leona must soon be exposed.
“Wal, Dave, I ain’t fit Injuns since I were knee-high to a grasshopper for nothing, an’ I intend to find out whether my guess is true or not.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The Injuns haven’t let me see them because they have seen me, that’s the idea. They have probably got one or two on ahead as sort of scouts, an’ then the main body follers in the rear, so as not to tumble on us in case we happen to stop suddenly. The chief in command, who is probably the ‘White Vulture,’ is holding ’em back so as to surprise us at the right time. Now, I’m goin’ to drop back an’ not let ’em see me. I’ll jist dismount, tie old roan here behind some bushes to hide her, lay low in the grass until Mr. Injun comes along, for of course he will come, having nothing to excite his suspicions; then I’ll jist pop him over, take his scalp-lock an’ leave him as a warning to the rest of the red devils.”
“But, suppose there should be two or three in the advance?” said Dave.
“Wal, I’ve got six shots in this ’ere revolver of mine an’ I guess I could even settle for an agent away from ’em. I’ll leave my rifle on the roan, so in case they push me hard I’ll have another shot. Jist you keep on with the train, camp at the bend where we camped last trip. Don’t be alarmed for me. If I don’t come back, carry the train on to Montana, conclude that these durned crows have wiped me out at last, an’ jist settle the account with them whenever you meet them.”
So, with a hearty pressure of Dave’s hand, the “Crow-Killer” turned his horse off one side and let the train pass him.
The wagon soon rolled by; then the “Crow-Killer,” selecting a little thicket on the river’s bank, dismounted and hid himself and horse behind it. He tied his rifle on the saddle so that he could easily free it, then examined the charges of his revolver, loosened his bowie-knife in its sheath, and being prepared for the coming fight, coolly extended himself at full length upon the grass, having first arranged the bushes before him so as to command a view down the river.