"The Blackfeet did not see us," White Otter told his companions. "See, it is almost dark! We will ride slower."
They could barely see an arrow flight before them, and they believed there was slight probability of being seen. In fact they had high hopes that the Blackfeet had entirely failed to notice them. Feeling quite safe, therefore, they reined in the ponies and rode at a slow canter. They heard the Blackfeet yelling savagely farther toward the north and had little doubt that they were still pursuing the demoralized Crows.
"They are making a great noise—it is good," declared Lean Wolf. "Our people will hear them."
"Yes, it is——" began White Otter.
"Listen!" interrupted Little Raven.
They heard the sound of galloping ponies directly ahead of them, and they barely had time to turn aside before the unknown riders passed them in the darkness. Then the nervous little piebald whinnied, and the strangers instantly stopped.
"Come!" cried White Otter, as he turned toward the north, and raced away at top speed.
"I believe those riders are the Blackfeet scouts that Feather Dog told us about," said Lean Wolf. "Little Raven, your ears are as sharp as the ears of Tokala, the fox."
They rode some distance before they finally stopped to listen for sounds from their foes. Night had fallen, and the great plain was cloaked in darkness. For a long time the stillness was unbroken. It seemed as if the Blackfeet had at last yelled themselves into silence. The Sioux wondered if the Crows had escaped.
"I do not believe the Blackfeet came up with them," Lean Wolf said, softly. "When it got dark I believe the Blackfeet turned back to round up those ponies that the Crows left behind."