With his hand he quietly raised one of the skins composing the lodge and peeped out.
The opening thus formed was not over a couple of inches in length, but his keen eyes could see everything that was passing.
A grim smile lit up the ranger's features, as he saw the wild excitement that reigned throughout the camp.
"Ther askeered o' Custer; they know him mighty well, but by thunder they mean ter fight. It'll be the biggest Indian fight that this country ever saw, bust my buttons now ef 'twon't. Bolly Wherrit, ye must let t'other matter drop, and sail inter this, fur it'll be full o' glory and death."
Alas! how the words of the old ranger came true has been made manifest in a way that has caused the whole country to mourn.
Death was fated to ride triumphant in the ravine on the other shore; this valley would see such a red slaughter as the annals of Indian history have seldom presented.
Several hours passed on.
The warriors were too busy with other matters to even think of their prisoner just then, much less visit his secure quarters, and so Bolly was undisturbed.
Noon came and went.
The hot sun beat down upon the earth with great fury, but a gentle breeze in the valley did much toward cooling the air on this fatal twenty-fifth of June.