White Otter knew that there were two things to do. The first was to return to the main trail of the Pawnees and leave a sign to warn the Sioux war party from repeating his blunder. The second was to find Little Raven. He felt sure that the false trail which the Minneconjoux had followed would either end in a hopeless tangle of tracks, or eventually return to the original trail. Therefore, he hoped to find Little Raven somewhere along the route taken by the main company of Pawnees.
It was almost dark when White Otter again returned to the place where the false trails began. His heart burned with anger as he realized the time he had lost, each precious moment a link in the chain that was dragging Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse to their doom. Still, he hoped that in spite of the delay he might yet arrive at the Pawnee village in time to aid his tribesmen. It was barely possible that the Pawnees might spare the captives for several days, and White Otter strengthened his confidence with the thought.
Aware that there was not an instant to lose, he proceeded to leave a warning for the war party. Riding to a little patch of willows, he selected a long, slender branch, and peeled the bark from one end. Then he stuck it in one of the hoof-prints, with the peeled end pointing in the direction of the Pawnee village. Next, he placed a barrier of small stones across each of the false trails. Then he mounted his pony and galloped along the original trail.
When night finally closed down, White Otter dismounted to follow the tracks of the Pawnee ponies. He moved slowly forward, listening and watching for some evidence of Little Raven. As time passed and he failed to find him he began to worry. He wondered whether the fearless lad had fallen into the hands of the Wolf People. He tried to reassure himself with the possibility that the trail toward the east had actually continued to another camp.
Then a sound came out of the night, a short distance ahead of him, and he instantly drew his pony from the trail, and prepared his bow. As he listened the noise was repeated, and he recognized it as the attempt of a muzzled pony to call to one of its kind. His own horse tried to reply, but he instantly grasped its nostrils and smothered it with a heavy fold of buckskin. Then he imitated the bark of the little gray fox. In a few moments he received a crude reply. He knew at once that it came from Little Raven.
"Ho, my brother, I see that you have come back; it is good," White Otter called softly.
"My ears tell me that you are my brother, White Otter," replied Little Raven.
A moment afterward they met. Little Raven said that the tracks which he had followed had rejoined the main trail at that very spot. He declared that he had seen nothing but antelope and buffaloes and some stray prairie wolves.
"Perhaps they were Pawnee scouts," White Otter suggested.
"No, I came close to those animals, and I know that they were wolves," Little Raven assured him.