Suddenly they all galloped to one side, to a little rise, and gathered there, like a flock of magpies, gazing up track. Had they seen Terry? He felt a thrill of fear, and huddled lower. Then he bethought to look behind, up track, too—and he saw smoke!
It was a train! A train was coming, from the west. And how it did come! A rescue train! Hurrah!
“Bill! A train’s coming! The Injuns are quitting!”
“Where from?”
“Up track.”
“’Ow’d they get word, thereabouts?”
“I dunno; but it’s coming, and coming lickity-split, as if it had soldiers.”
“’Ooray!” Bill groaned. “An’ I ’ope it ’as a doctor, to stick this ’ere scalp on me again.”
The engine shrieked, and the smoke poured blacker. The Indians were getting restless. Then away they scoured. Terry stood up and yelled and waved his arms, the train—a short train of box-cars—pulled in and soldiers tumbled out. How good their blue coats looked! Terry went stumbling and staggering to meet them. He saw somebody he knew—the scout in buckskin who was leading the soldiers, with the officer.
“Sol! Hello, Sol Judy! Oh, Sol!”