"They will soon unite, and when they do he will be the fiercest warrior among them. I wonder——"
He held his breath a moment, and then only whisper—
"I wonder if they have not already visited our home?"
CHAPTER III.
"THERE ARE FIFTY HOSTILES."
To the westward the Black Hills thrust their vast rugged summits against the wintry sky; to the south, a spur of the same mountains put out toward the frontier town of Buffalo Gap; to the north-east wound the Big Cheyenne, on its way to the Missouri, and marking through a part of its course the southern boundary of the Cheyenne Reservation, while creek, stream, and river crossed the rolling plain that intervened, and over all stretched the sunless sky, from which the snow-flakes were eddying and whirling to the frozen earth below.
But Brinton Kingsland had no eye for any of these things, upon which he had looked many a time and oft. His thoughts were with those loved ones in the humble cabin, still miles away, toward the towering mountains, while his immediate anxiety was about the hostiles that had appeared in his front and were now circling to the northward as if to meet Wolf Ear, the young Ogalalla, who was galloping in the face of the biting gale and rapidly drawing toward them.
Brinton's expectation that they would lose no time in coming together was not precisely fulfilled, for while the horsemen were yet a long way off, they swerved sharply, as though they identified the youth for the first time.
"They intend to give me some attention," was his thought, "without waiting for Wolf Ear to join them. They know that I belong to the white race, and that is enough."
The youth did not feel any special alarm for himself, for he was confident that Jack was as fleet-footed as any of the animals bestrode by the hostiles, and would leave them behind in a fair race. He noticed that the Ogalalla was mounted on a superior beast, but he did not believe he could outspeed Jack.