“I shall follow White Buffalo,” said Rodney, decidedly. “And I shall take Nell and Tom and Artie with me.”
“White Buffalo is a good Indian!” cried Nell, who had awakened and run forward to greet the old chief, whom she knew by the voice. “I know he will save me,” and she took his hand confidently.
At last Malloy and the regulars gave in and all looked to see what White Buffalo’s first move would be. His plan to rescue them was as old as it was simple.
“White Buffalo will go back to his braves,” said the aged chief. “They will make a great noise to the northward, fire shots and yell. They will attack one or two of Moon Eye’s men. That will cause Moon Eye to rush with more warriors to that point. Then my friends must slip away in the darkness and go down to the river—to the spot where Sam has been left. I will tell how the spot can be found.” And he did so.
This matter arranged, White Buffalo added that he and his braves would join the whites in the morning—the signal to be the croaking of frogs. Then, after a few additional words to Rodney, he bowed to those around him, leaped over the barricade of stones, and vanished into the night.
No time was lost, after the departure of the aged Indian chief, in getting ready to leave the cave. Such things as could be dispensed with were left behind. Two horses were brought to the front, and Nell and Tom were placed on one and Mrs. Dobson and Artie on another. All the men looked to their firearms and their hunting knives.
“This may be our last night on earth,” said one regular. “At the best, we have only a fighting chance.”
Casbury had followed White Buffalo and was outside, on the watch. He fancied that he saw an Indian at a distance, but was not sure and did not fire.
A half-hour went by—an unusually long time to those in the cavern, whose nerves were strung to the topmost pitch. All was now in readiness for the flight, but so far not a sound had broken the stillness.
“Mebbe something has miscarried,” observed one regular.