“Loud Tempest; do you mean Captain Melton?”
“Yes; he is here, with the white hunter Joe, and many warriors. Napope can not rest until we have his scalp.”
“Cooney Joe! Why, I give him a lick last night that ought to have settled any decent man for good.”
“He is alive, and fights like a Sac,” replied Napope. “They are in the woods and we must follow and take their scalps.”
“I’ll bet he’s arter me,” muttered Garrett. “He don’t owe me any good will for work I’ve done, and I’ve swore to have his hair. Thar’s my hand on it, Napope, and I’ll never quit you until he or I have gone under.”
Sadie had started at the name of Melton, and was conscious of a feeling of joy that he had thought enough of her safety to follow her into the Indian country, but, as she glanced over the line of ferocious faces, she was sorry that he had incurred this danger. But she followed the party until they reached the battle-field and found it strewn with the slain bodies of the Sacs who had fallen, each one pierced by the deadly bullet.
“These ain’t babies we are following,” said Garrett. “They kin fight, Melton’s scout kin, and ef we lick ’em we lick a good crowd. How many has he got with him?”
Napope extended the fingers upon both hands twice.
“Twenty? We’ve got our work cut out then, for twenty of Melton’s Mounted Rifles, with the capting and Cooney Joe to lead, are a hard crowd to manage, bet your life.”
“There was one of your men with us in this fight,” said Napope, looking about him for Tom Bantry. “But I do not see him now.”