Brinton had no further wish to discuss the ghost dance and the coming of the new Messiah with the young Ogalalla. All his thoughts were of those dear ones, miles away, whose dreadful peril he now fully comprehended for the first time. He saw the mistake that had been made by the delay, and a faintness came over him at the declaration of Wolf Ear that this delay was fatal.
His horse was facing the north-west, the direction of his home. There was no call for longer tarrying.
"Good-bye," he said, giving the Indian a military salute; "I hope we shall meet ha more pleasant circumstances, when you shall see, Wolf Ear, the mistake you are making."
Trained in the ways of the white people, the dusky youth raised his hand to his forehead, and sat motionless on his horse, without speaking, as his friend dashed across the plain, over the trail which he had followed to the banks of the Big Cheyenne.
It was not yet noon, and Brinton was hopeful of reaching home long before the day drew to a close. The chilliness of the air continued, and a few feathery flakes of snow drifted horizontally on the wind or were whirled about the head of the young horseman. He glanced up at the leaden sky and noted that the temperature was falling.
"Like enough we shall have one of those blizzards, when the horses and cattle freeze to death under shelter and we can only huddle and shiver around the fire and wait for the tempest to pass. It will be the death of us all, if we start for the agency and are caught in one of the blizzards, but death awaits us if we stay. Ah me, what will become of father, ill and weak as he is?"
The words of Wolf Ear made the youth more circumspect and alert than when riding away from his home. He continually glanced ahead, on his right and left and to the rear. The first look in the last direction showed him the young Ogalalla sitting like a statue on his pony and gazing after him.
Some minutes later, when Brinton turned his head again, he saw him riding at a rapid pace towards the north, or rather a little west of north, so that the course of the two slightly diverged.
"He's up to some mischief, I'll warrant," was Brinton's conclusion, "and he already recalls his profession of friendship for me. Halloa! I don't like the look of that."
In the precise direction pursued by the Ogalalla, which was toward Rapid Creek, a tributary of the Big Cheyenne, he discerned several Indian horsemen. They were riding close, and were so mingled together that it was impossible to tell their number. They seemed to be about half a dozen, and were advancing as if to meet Wolf Ear, who must have descried them before Brinton.