Indians seemed as thick as blackberries on a July day.
From every bush and rock they made their appearance, ugly-looking and determined on mischief.
All the way down to the level bank of the river men kept dropping, and with them horses, but in spite of it all the brave squad kept straight on.
Just at this moment a new form appeared among the blue coats.
Where he came from no one had the slightest idea, not even keen-eyed Pandy himself.
The first the ranger knew of it, he saw some one mounted on a white horse dash by him, and a boy dressed in the becoming suit of a hunter drew rein beside the yellow-haired chief.
Custer turned his head for the first time since changing the course of his troop, and his face expressed evident displeasure when he saw the boy.
"Mason, boy, you here?" the officer ejaculated.
The young fellow did not seem to pay any heed to the dismay that was plainly perceptible in the tones of the general.
"General," he almost shouted, putting out a hand to seize Custer's bridle, but which was impatiently put away by him, "to go forward is impossible. They are ten to your one."