“Injun sign out yonder,” cried Sol.
“Colonel! Oh, Colonel Mizner!” summoned the general. “We’ve sighted what may likely be a party of Indians, on before. Whether they’ve seen our camp smoke, I can’t tell. We’ll go ahead, of course; and if you’ll kindly make arrangements accordingly, we may wipe out a few scores. I’m sure we’ve got a good fight in us.”
“I only hope they’ll give us a chance to show it,” answered the colonel. And—“My compliments to Lieutenant Wheelan, and tell him I’d like to speak with him,” he said, to his orderly.
Away ran the orderly. Lieutenant Wheelan was delighted— “It’s been a long trip without a scrimmage. The men are famished for a brush or two,” he cheered.
With wagon train closed up, guarded well, and with cavalry riding the flanks in compact lines, the march proceeded. Sol, the colonel, and General Dodge and General Rawlins held the advance.
“How far are those beggars, I wonder,” said young Mr. Duff. “Bet they’ll run away.”
“Only ten miles, but the glasses could scarcely pick them out, among the rocks,” replied Mr. Appleton.
“The general sees ’em again!”
The advance had halted, to scan with the glasses. Sol galloped back.
“They aren’t Injuns. They’re white men, and act like they’re in trouble. They’re afoot an’ leading hosses. Fetch on yore water, for we’ll probably need it.”