"Oh, pshaw!" laughed the captain. "We're safe enough. I'll get you back to Lizzie. Don't you worry yourself."
"Lizzie" was the lieutenant's bride, at Fort Riley. He had left her for the first time since they were married.
Drawn by its rapidly trotting mules the wagon trundled about three miles farther—and the captain had a glimpse of something new, moving over the low brush ahead and toward the river. It seemed to be a flock of wild turkeys bobbing along, now above the brush, now settling into it. N-no? What, then? Men on horses.
He clutched the lieutenant's arm.
"Look there, Hallowell. What is it?"
The lieutenant looked only once.
"Injuns, by Jiminy! We're in for it."
He whirled his team around and with voice and shake of lines quickened them to a gallop on the back trail for Zarah, six miles.
The captain objected.
"Wait! Hold on, Hallowell. They may be part of the escort."