“This must be looked into. He ought not to have done it—he ought to have notified us and have taken a squad.”
“It war only a mile, he said; so I hear,” observed Kit.
“A mile is a long way, in Injun country, Kit. Hello! What’s that?” and the lieutenant pointed.
The eyes of all persons thus notified leaped to the spot. About a mile below, or down the river, had up-welled into the calm evening air a column of thick white smoke.
“Tabeau’s gone,” exclaimed Kit, instantly. “That’s a coup smoke, to tell a scalp’s been taken an’ everybody should look out!”
“You think it means Tabeau, then?”
“Sartin. That’s whar he started for—that cottonwood grove whar the camp war. The smoke’s at the very place.”
“Take whatever you can get the quickest and go down there at once,” ordered the lieutenant. “If you ride hard you may not be too late.”
“We’ll ride hard, but we’ll be too late, captain,” answered Kit, already striding away.
As he passed, he responded to Oliver’s appealing gaze.