Shifting the point of observation, the rancher raised his head just enough, cautiously parting the grass in front, to permit him to see the other bank, becoming more dimly visible in the falling snow and gathering gloom.
He scanned the points whence had come the shots, but could discover nothing of his enemies. They might be there, but if so they were invisible, as could readily be the case; but, somehow or other, the conviction grew upon him that they were moving, and that to postpone his departure longer was to invite the worst fate imaginable for himself and dear ones.
"We cannot leave too soon," he exclaimed, hastening to carry out the purpose that never ought to have been delayed so long.
CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE FRINGE OF THE WOODS.
Fully realizing the mistake he had made in waiting, the rancher now did his best to improve the precious time at his disposal.
His own pony had remained obediently near his companion, while the brush was going on between his master and the Sioux on the other side of the stream. The former hastily climbed into the saddle, and taking the reins in hand, looked at his wife.
"Are you ready, Molly?"
"I have been for a long time."