The Sioux had quieted. They let the hollow alone, tenanted as it was with death; there was for us a satisfaction in that tribute to our defense. Quite methodically, and with cruel show of leisure they distributed themselves by knots, in a half-encircling string around our asylum; they posted a sentry, ahorse, as a lookout; and lolling upon the bare ground in the sun glare they chatted, laughed, rested, but never for an instant were we dismissed from their eyes and thoughts.
“They will wait, too. They can afford it,” she murmured. “It is cheaper for them than losing lives.”
“If they knew we had only the two cartridges——?”
“They don’t, yet.”
“And they will find out too late,” I hazarded.
“Yes, too late. We shall have time.” Her voice did not waver; it heartened with its vengeful, determined mien.
Occasionally a warrior invoked us by brandishing arm or weapon in surety of hate and in promise of fancied reprisal. What fools they were! Now and 301 again a warrior galloped upon the back trail; returned gleefully, perhaps to flourish an army canteen at us.
“There probably is water where we heard the frogs last night,” she remarked.
“I’m glad we didn’t try to reach it, for camp,” said I.
“So am I,” said she. “We might have run right into them. We are better here. At least, I am.”