“Yes, too many, I am afraid,” replied Dave. “Let us join them and see what the loss really is.”
A careful search revealed the fact that five of his men had been killed and twice that number wounded. Of the assailants twelve were killed and five mortally wounded left upon the ground. The burial service was brief, each rough man bidding good-by to his friend in his rough way as they were laid beneath the sod, friend and foe together in a trench which was hastily thrown up by the men, who knew their duty well.
“Whirlwind has caught his Tartar, I reckon,” said Dave, as the sound of rifles came up on the wind. “What a dressing those fellows will give the Blackfeet!”
The firing receded, growing fainter and fainter in the distance, and they began to think that the Blackfeet were driving the enemy before them.
“Dave,” said Old Pegs, “I’ve bin thinking ’bout my gal and made up my mind. I’d hate to lose her but I won’t keep her here no more and she’s got ter go to the fort.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” replied Dave, eagerly. “What made you come to that conclusion?”
Old Pegs related the adventure with Velveteens and Anatole.
“And you see, boy, this yer mout happen any day. Now give me ten men and I’ll go up to-morrow and git her and we’ll send her home with the brigade.”
The plan suited Dave well, and early next morning the old hunter with ten men rode up to his cabin home, searching every pass before they entered it. The ride was a long one and it was ten o’clock when Old Pegs dismounted at his door and went in.
The room was empty, but that did not seem to trouble him, for, after calling Myrtle’s name once or twice, he pushed aside the curtains of the recess in which she slept and went in. A sort of clicking sound was heard directly after, and he was not seen for ten minutes, when the noise was again repeated and he sprung out into the empty room with a wild look on his face.