"It won't do!" protested Captain Wadsworth; "don't try it! wait till we get them nearer the ridge they will cut you off——"
"I'm off! Good-bye!"
Brinton Kingsland was in the saddle, and shot out from among the waggons like a thunderbolt.
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT HAPPENED TO WOLF EAR.
Good fortune attended the daring attempt of Brinton Kingsland. By a providential occurrence, most of the hostiles were on the side of the supply camp, in the direction of the ridge from whose crest the signal smoke was ascending, when the youth, dexterously guiding his pony through the waggons that surrounded him, quickly cleared himself of all obstacles.
"Now, Jack, old boy, do your best! Never was there greater need of it."
The intelligent creature thrust his nose forward, and was off like a shot. He knew what was wanted, and nobly responded to the call upon his fleetness. The teamsters forgot all about the Indians, and fixed their gaze upon the youth.
He was fully a hundred yards from camp before the Sioux comprehended what was done. Then, when they saw the messenger dashing over the plain, fully a dozen of the best mounted were after him in a flash, discharging several of their guns at the moment of starting.
Brinton was seen to thunder up the incline of the first swell, sitting firmly in his saddle, and instantly disappeared over the crest. A minute later, the foremost two of the pursuers skimmed up the same incline, just as the lad shot into sight on the summit of the next elevation, instantly whisking out of view over that, while his superb horse continued his arrowy flight toward Wounded Knee. Then the excited and hopeful teamsters could see no more, and all but the foremost two of the pursuers gave up the chase and came straggling back to join their comrades in the attack on the camp. They knew that the result of that flight of the messenger would be to bring help, and, if anything was to be accomplished, it must be before it could arrive.