With the Blackfoot paint washed from his face, and with his blanket over his head, he had entered the village, and had had no difficulty in going where he pleased, and making such examinations as he wished to make. He mingled with the Arapahoes on the street of the village, entered some of their lodges, and even conversed with them. But he did not find Flora Robinette, nor did he see or hear any thing to lead him to suppose that she was still among the Arapahoes.
Desiring to make his search as thorough as possible, he remained longer than he had expected to when he parted from Silverspur. The barking of the dog made him anxious concerning his friend, and presented him at the same time, as he thought, a good opportunity to get clear of the village.
“That is my dog,” he said, as some of the warriors began to show signs of uneasiness at the continued barking of the animal. “I will go and see what is the matter with him.”
This expression, by which the Blackfoot hoped to cover his friend, nearly brought him into trouble. It so happened that there was only one dog in the village, and that its owner was standing by when White Shield spoke. This Indian turned upon him angrily, and he could only avoid the consequences of his damaging remark by passing it off as a joke. The owner of the dog went to look for the animal, and White Shield sidled away from the group of Indians who had begun to suspect him.
Shortly there came from the forest a yell, piercing and full of anguish, that was at once recognized as the death-cry of the man who had gone to the dog.
The savages bounded away to avenge the death of their comrade, and White Shield joined them, hoping to get clear himself, if he could do nothing to aid his friend. Although several of the warriors were ahead of him, he soon perceived that Silverspur had mounted his horse, and was rapidly flying from his pursuers.
Believing that his friend on horseback could easily distance the Indians on foot, he thought it best to look to his own safety.
In their eager pursuit the Arapahoes had passed the place from which Silverspur had started, and where the horse of the Blackfoot was still concealed. Profiting by their negligence, White Shield lingered behind until all had passed him. He then untethered his horse, and quietly led him away until he was out of hearing of the Arapahoes, when he mounted, and rode off into the prairie, where he hoped to find his friend.
When he believed himself to be at a safe distance, he halted and listened anxiously; but he heard nothing of the wild triumphant yell that would have announced the death or capture of the fugitive. Concluding, therefore, that Silverspur had escaped, he rode about until daylight, expecting to meet him. In this he was disappointed, as he could not find even a trail. He at last perceived that it would be necessary to commence the search at the beginning—to start at the place from which Silverspur had started.