White Shield took his companion in a direct course to the village to which he had been carried as a prisoner, but discovered, upon his arrival at the place where it had stood, that it had recently been removed. Following the lodge-pole trail, which was plain enough, they found the village in its new location, near the base of the mountains.
At nightfall the two friends prepared to reconnoiter, for the purpose of discovering the whereabouts of Flora Robinette. It was arranged that White Shield should disguise himself and enter the village, where he should saunter about and mix with the Arapahoes as much as possible, while Silverspur remained and awaited his return, at the place where their horses were concealed.
The Indian threw his blanket over his head, and walked boldly toward the village, leaving Wilder to wait and watch. The night was dark, quite favorable to the purposes of the spy, and Wilder had no doubt that he would soon see him returning in safety, whether he made any discovery or not. But hours passed away; the night grew darker, until it was so black that the outlines of the neighboring trees could scarcely be discerned, and the young man became anxious and impatient. Notwithstanding White Shield’s experience and reputation as a woodman and warrior, it was possible that he might have lost his way in endeavoring to return to his friend, or that he might have been discovered and captured by the Arapahoes.
At last Wilder heard a rustling in the timber. He bent forward and listened, striving to look through the darkness, but not doubting that it was his friend who was approaching.
The noise ceased, and again it commenced; but it did not seem to draw any nearer. It might be some animal scratching among the leaves, or it might be White Shield feeling his way in the darkness. Wilder thought it best to try to find out what it really was.
“Is that you, White Shield?” he asked, in a whisper.
In reply, he was startled by the growling of an Indian dog, and the next instant the animal came running up to him, barking most vociferously.
“Confound this noisy little pest!” he exclaimed. “I must put a stop to his racket, or he will bring the red-skins on me.”
He aimed a blow at the brute with the butt of his rifle, but missed it, and the dog ran toward the village, and then ran back, barking as spitefully and as loud as it could.
Wilder knew well that he would be compelled to change his location; but he greatly disliked to do so before the return of White Shield, as they would then be separated, and might not be able to come together again. He had no doubt that the noise would be heard at the village, and that the Indians, knowing from the dog’s manner of barking that it had not started any game, would sally out to see what was the matter. In that event he would be compelled to fly; but he hoped that White Shield might arrive before that step should become necessary.