In a short time Pandy came to Custer's back trail.
It was quite deserted now, save by the dead, for after the cavalry had passed, the Indians followed after in order to have a hand in the battle which they knew would take place when the troops attempted to storm the village.
The crags that had so lately echoed with the cracks of Indian rifles as their owners lay in ambush, were silent now, and as Pandy rode along he could not help thinking how different it would have all been, had headstrong Custer cast aside his willful mood, and listened to the advice of one who had his best interest at heart.
It was while in this contemplative mood that Pandy suddenly became aware of the fact that a body of Indians were dodging about and among the rocks in front of him.
To retreat was almost impossible, as he would doubtless receive a bullet in the back.
Making what might be termed the best of a bad bargain, Pandy took the bridle between his teeth, and holding a revolver in each hand, urged Nancy forward at a gallop.
There was something in the manner of this undaunted man's facing death again after his recent escape and great exertions, that would have enlisted the admiration of even an enemy.
As he advanced, the redskins vanished altogether, and Pandy was beginning to believe they had gone altogether, when he heard a singular but well-known whoop that made him draw rein with an exclamation of surprise.
At the same instant a tall Indian stepped into view from behind a bowlder and advanced boldly toward the ranger.
The latter seemed to recognize him, for a smile illuminated his bronzed and blood-stained countenance.