"Come on; keep close to me."
He spoke briskly to his horse, who broke into a swift gallop, which was imitated so promptly by the other that the couple advanced abreast toward the wooded section. It was no time for conversation, and the progress continued in silence.
The snow was now falling thick and fast, and the gloom had deepened to that extent that they could not see objects more than a hundred feet away. Both wife and husband continually glanced behind them, for they were almost certain that the red men were in the act of crossing the stream at the moment the start was made, and could not be far to the rear.
True, the fugitives had much in their favor. The keen eyes of the pursuers could detect their trail in the snowy ground, but not for long. By and by they might trace it only by dropping down from their ponies and using the sense of feeling. This would compel them to proceed carefully, and hold them well to the rear while the whites were using the occasion to the utmost, and continually gaining ground. Had the route to Fort Meade been level and unobstructed, they could have asked nothing more favorable. They would have forced their ponies to the utmost, and by the time the sun rose the vengeful red men would be placed hopelessly behind.
The straining vision saw nothing but the darkness and snow in the direction of the stream already crossed, but they could never feel relieved of the dreadful fear until safely within the military post of the Black Hills.
"Oh, papa, I see a horse!" was the startling exclamation of Dot, whom her mother had supposed, because of her stillness and immobility, to be asleep.
"Where?" demanded her father, grasping his Winchester and looking affrightedly around.
"Not there," replied the child with a laugh, working her arm out of its environments, and pointing ahead.
A solitary animal was observed standing as motionless as a statue a short distance in advance. Apprehensive of some trap by the Indians, the father brought his pony to a sudden stop, his wife instantly imitating him, and both peered ahead at the strange form.
They could see no rider, though there was something on the animal's back, which might have been a warrior lying flat, so as to protect his body from the rifle of the white man, or, what was equally probable, the owner was standing on the ground hidden by the horse, and awaiting his chance to send in a fatal shot.