“I don’t know. But we must wait. We can stand them off for a while, I suppose——”
“I’ll do my best, with the revolver,” I promised.
“Yes,” she murmured. “But after that——?”
I had no reply. This contingency—we two facing Indians—was outside my calculations.
The Indians had grouped; several had dismounted, peering closely at our trail, reading it, timing it, accurately estimating it. They had no difficulty, for the hoof prints were hardly dried of the fog moisture. The others sat idly, searching the horizons with their eyes, but at confident ease. In the wide expanse this rock fortress of ours seemed to me to summon imperatively, challenging them. They surely must know. Yet there they delayed, torturing us, playing blind, emulating cat and mouse; but of course they were reasoning and making certain.
Now the dismounted warriors vaulted ahorse; at a 278 gesture from the chief two men rode aside, farther to the east, seeking other sign. They found none, and to his shrill hail they returned.
There was another command. The company had strung bows, stripped their rifles of the buckskin sheaths, had dropped robe and blanket about their loins; they spread out to right and left in close skirmish order; they advanced three scouts, one on the trail, one on either flank; and in a broadened front they followed with a discipline, an earnestness, a precision of purpose and a deadly anticipation that drowned every fleeting hope.
This was unbearable: to lie here awaiting an inevitable end.
“Shall we make a break for it?” I proposed. “Ride and fight? We might reach the train, or a stage station. Quick!”
In my wild desire for action I half arose. Her hand restrained me.