This was followed by another shout, as the lad withdrew beyond reach of a rifle-ball, that left no doubt of its meaning on the minds of the astounded warriors.
CHAPTER SIX
THE MUDDY CREEK BAND—THE TORCH
IT was easy for any spectator to interpret the actions and signals of the Sioux warrior who was standing erect on his pony and waving his blanket at some party invisible to the others.
After a minute or two he rested, with the blanket trailing beside him, while he still held his erect position, and continued gazing earnestly over the prairie. This showed that he was waiting for an answer to his signal. Either there was none, or that which was given was not satisfactory, for up went the blanket once more, and he swung it more vigorously than before, stopping and gazing away again.
This time the reply was what was desired, for the warrior dropped as suddenly astride of his horse as though his feet had been knocked from under him, and, wheeling about, he and his companion galloped down the hill to where the others were viewing the cabin.
The taunting words which Melville had called through the front window must have convinced the Sioux that the pitcher had gone once too often to the fountain. Red Feather had escaped by a wonderful piece of good fortune when wedged in the window, and had been encouraged to another attempt, which ended in his ruin.
"Red Feather," said Melville, stepping close to the chieftain, who was still peering through one of the windows, "the other Sioux will soon be here."
"Dat so—dat so," replied the Indian, looking around at him and nodding his head several times.
"What will they do?"