CHAPTER XXIX.
A YOUNG HUNTER'S STRATEGY.
Fred Linden walked rapidly forward until he reached the middle of the prairie, when he paused and bent his eyes on the swiftly vanishing drove of buffaloes. They were speeding at right angles to the course he had been following, and, so far as he could judge at the distance, were on the same dead run with which they started.
He was convinced that he was mistaken a brief while before, when, for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of Terry on the back of the terrified bull. He was unable to distinguish any thing that looked like him. He might—and it was not at all improbable—be still clinging to his steed, but he was too far off and too mixed up with the others for even the keen eyes of Fred Linden to identify him.
There seemed but the one thing to do: that was to follow the drove until he learned the fate of his friend. Certain that he would find him sooner or later, Fred resorted again to his loping trot, which he could keep up for several hours without great fatigue.
But he had not gone twenty steps at this gait, when, to his astonishment and alarm, he observed three Indian warriors, each mounted on a horse, issue from the wood at the point where the buffaloes would have entered it had they not turned to the left. The red men headed their animals directly toward Fred, and advanced at a moderate gallop.
The sight was enough to make the bravest person thoughtful; for you will readily see the critical situation of the boy. It was useless to turn and run, for they would overhaul him before he could get half way to cover. He was in the middle of a grassy prairie, where there was not the slightest object which could be used as a screen in a fight with them. He glanced quickly about, but did not see a stone as large as his hand. Except so far as his weapons were concerned, he was absolutely helpless.
Never did Fred Linden display more coolness and knowledge of Indian character than he did at this time when caught at such fearful disadvantage. He knew that if he showed any timidity, the red men would attack him at once, while, if he could deceive them, as he hoped, there was a possibility that he would escape.
Two hundred yards away, the Indians drew their cantering horses down to a walk: they evidently saw there was no call for haste and they could afford to take all the time they wished. They were riding beside each other, instead of in Indian file, and being nigh enough to be observed distinctly, showed that they were dressed precisely like the Winnebagos whom he had noticed the night before around their camp-fire. This might have been, had they belonged to another totem, for there is a similarity in the dress of different tribes, but Fred had no doubt that these were Winnebagos. It began to look indeed as if there was an irruption of them into that section of the Louisiana Territory.
During those trying moments, when Fred calmly watched the approach of the dusky horsemen, he was observant of the smallest things. He recalled that they were the same in number as the party which he and Terry so narrowly missed the night before on the edge of the stream and he half suspected they were the same, though such supposition did not correspond with the theories formed and accepted at the time.