The “Crow-Killer” safely accomplished his purpose, reached the timber on the other side of the glade without exciting the suspicions of the savage. The position of the enemy was turned.
The guide took the precaution to go some distance beyond the glade, before he left the shelter of the overhanging bank—that had so kindly shielded him—and took to the thicket.
“’Pears to me,” he said, musingly, “that I onc’t hearn one of the sodgers at Fort Benton say that it was bad policy for an invading army to leave a strong post of the enemy in their rear. Now, as I suppose I stand for the same as an invading army, it would be bad policy for me to let that ’are Crow hold his position without a try to boost him out of it, ’cos if I should happen to get into any leetle difficulty beyond hyar with the Crows, my only chance of escape is by this timber, ’cos, on the prairie, their horses would run me down, easy as fallin’ off a log. Tharfore, it’s very clear to my mind that the first thing to be done is to put that Crow out of the way.”
Through the timbers cautiously stole the guide; he was now approaching the Indian in the rear. He had formed so true a calculation of the spot upon which sat the Crow chief, that, after five minutes’ continued progress he could distinguish the dusky figure on the outskirts of the timber.
“Thar’s the red devil!” muttered the hunter. Just then he happened to step upon a dried twig, which snapped beneath his tread. Noiselessly and with the quickness of the lightning’s flash, the “Crow-Killer” sunk at full length upon the ground.
The quick ear of the Indian caught the sound of the breaking twig, and he lazily turned his head in the direction of the noise. The action was prompted by curiosity only, not alarm, for he had no suspicion of danger; he looked for the foe before not behind him.
A moment or two the Indian kept his eyes fixed in the direction of the “Crow-Killer.” All was still, however, no sound came from the little thicket.
The Indian, at last satisfied that the noise came from some little animal or bird within the thicket, again resumed his watch down the river.
“Wal,” the “Crow-Killer” whispered, “that were a narrow escape. If that Injun had as much sense as a pig, he’d have found out what made that ’are noise. Bah! talk ’bout Injun sense and skill! Thar never were an Injun yet that could come up to a white man trained in their ways; they ain’t got the head on their red bodies for to do it. A moment ago, I thought it were a difficult question to decide, whether he’d take my top-knot or I’d take his’n, but thar ain’t any doubt ’bout it now; he’s a gone sucker, as sure as my name’s Abe.”
Then drawing his keen-edged hunting-knife, with a stealthy step the old hunter crept upon his foe. The Indian, unconscious of danger, and wearied from the toil of last night’s fight, sat upon the grass, idly reclining upon his elbow, his carbine by his side, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the open prairie