A mile out to the east the trio halted for a moment on a low ridge and looked down a gentle slope upon the camp. It was pitched where the reservation road crossed a ravine, and at its center, beside a rivulet, was a fire of buffalo-chips from which the smoke steadily arose. About the fire, and before two tepees, sat a half-dozen braves, five in government blankets, with their black mops bound back, the sixth in flannel shirt, leather breeches tucked into high boots, and a broad felt hat over his long hair. South of the fire, in the ravine, several horses, closely hobbled, were cropping the new grass; and between them and the tepees, lying half under a light road wagon, was an animal stretched flat and covered with blankets.
"It's that horse," said the biggest brother. The Indian behind him grunted and rode ahead down the slope, and, at his approach, the circle about the camp-fire stood up.
As the face of the Indian wearing the wide hat was turned toward them, the little girl gave a joyful cry and whipped her horse with her rope reins. The army saddle and the monogrammed bridle were no longer a mystery, the camp was no longer to be feared,—for the unblanketed brave was the troop's scout from the reservation, the half-breed, Eagle Eye!
The next moment he was explaining how, returning from Sioux Falls, where for a fortnight he had been winning admiration for his military appearance, his feats on horseback, and his skill with the rifle, he had fallen in with the party of Indians, which was coming back from a trip beyond the Mississippi. After a long, hard ride together the day before, they had been forced to go into camp in the ravine because the blue-roan mare which one of them was driving had suddenly lain down and refused to rise. And she had remained stretched out since, and was breathing deep and painfully.
When the biggest brother rode over to where she lay, he saw at once that she was sorely stricken with pneumonia, and that only prompt attention would be of any use. Her great brown eyes were wide and starting with agony, her delicate nostrils were distended and dry, and her iron-gray sides were heaving.
"You've got to get her out o' here, Eagle Eye," said the biggest brother, as he and the little girl leaned over the panting animal; "she'll go in no time on this wet ground. Suppose we make a travee and haul her home."
The Indians received the offer, which Eagle Eye interpreted for them, with many signs of pleasure; and in a moment had taken down the cottonwood lodge-poles cut the previous day, and brought straps and ropes. But it was mid-afternoon before the rude litter was finished. Two poles were fastened to the hind axle of the wagon, the width of the wheels apart; across them other poles were roped after having been chopped into short lengths; and on top of these were laid some buffalo robes, blankets, and straw. Then the mare, too sick to resent handling, was half lifted and half rolled into place. When the journey to the farm-house was made, the tough Indian pony between the shafts was helped in the hauling by a plow team from the barn.
The travee was untied from the wagon at the stable, and the three big brothers helped the Indians to drag it into a roomy stall, the little girl looking on all the while sympathetically. Then her mother, the biggest brother, and Eagle Eye poulticed the throbbing chest, put compresses on the silky neck, and poured one hot drink after another down the reluctant throat of the blue mare.
They worked until midnight. But when the next day broke, chill and drizzily, the horse seemed worse instead of better, and the Indians, who had slept with their guns on their arms at the heads of their saddled ponies, prepared to go. They seemed so anxious to set off that the big brothers were suspicious that they had stolen the animal and were expecting pursuit. The fact that she had no saddle-marks on her mottled back, and that they had cumbered themselves with a wagon, bore out the belief. The eldest brother spoke his mind to Eagle Eye, but the half-breed only said that Black Cloud, who claimed to own her, wished to sell her to the brothers.
"I shouldn't wonder," sneered the eldest brother; "she'll be ready for the pigs by noon. I wouldn't take her as a gift,—and you can tell 'em so."