Yellow Cloud did not talk long. He spoke with an earnestness that carried conviction, and the Sioux would have given much to know what he said. However, they read a clew from the face and manner of Standing Elk, the warlike medicine-man. He soon made it plain that the Pawnee chief was talking against him. The Dacotahs wondered, therefore, whether Yellow Cloud was actually pleading for the lives of his captives. It seemed too much to hope, and still they realized that he might fear to kill a man possessing the mysterious powers credited to Yellow Horse. At any rate the Sioux felt quite sure that he would at least prolong the delay, and for the moment it satisfied them.
When the Pawnee chief had finished speaking, his tribesmen maintained an impressive silence. As they waited, the warriors turned their eyes upon the glowering face of the medicine-man, but Standing Elk made no attempt to resume his talk. Then Yellow Cloud called several stalwart warriors, and sent them to the lodge which apparently sheltered the Ogalalas.
"Now we must be ready to do something," White Otter told his companions.
The lodge into which the Pawnees had disappeared was between the great assemblage of warriors and the border of the camp, and the Dacotahs realized that if they would help their tribesmen they must act while Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse were being taken from the lodge to the council-fire. Still, uncertainty as to what the Pawnees planned to do with the prisoners made them hesitate. The talk of the Pawnee war chief had filled them with hope, and yet the fact that he had actually sent for the captives had awakened their distrust. They knew that a word, a look, a gesture might suddenly rouse the passion of that great company of warlike people, and bring instant death upon the helpless prisoners. To delay, therefore, in the hope that Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse would survive the interview unharmed, seemed like abandoning them to their fate. White Otter and his companions realized that once the Ogalalas were engulfed in the great throng of Pawnee fighting men, all attempts to save them would be futile.
"No, there is only one thing to do," White Otter whispered, excitedly, as he watched the entrance of the lodge. "We have come here to help our people. When they come out of that lodge, we must do something. I will give the bark of the little gray fox. Then Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse will know that we are here. Perhaps they will try to help us. But we must be ready to rush into the camp, and do the best we can. I have told you what I am going to do. Now I will ask you to follow me."
"You are the leader; we will follow you," Sun Bird said, calmly.
Aware that the fateful moment was at hand, the Sioux nerved themselves for the desperate attempt to rescue the Ogalalas. Each member of the heroic little band knew that he was probably going to his death, and still there was not a trace of fear in the heart of any of them. Fitting arrows to their bows, they fastened their attention upon the lodge, and watched anxiously for the prisoners.
Their suspense was soon ended, however, for in a few moments the wolfskin over the entrance of the lodge was drawn aside, and two of the three Pawnee guards came out. Then Wolf Robe appeared, and a moment later Yellow Horse followed. The third Pawnee brought up the rear. The Sioux saw that the arms of the Ogalalas were bound, but their feet were free. At sight of them the Pawnees began to shout and jeer, and it was evident that the captives were in considerable peril of violence. They walked fearlessly forward, however, accompanied by their stalwart guards.
The prisoners had not taken three strides, when a piercing yell rose through the night, some distance to the south of the camp. The next instant the plain reverberated with the ringing war cry of the Dacotahs and the thunderous hoofbeats of their ponies.
"Come!" cried White Otter, as he sprang to his feet, and drove his arrow through the Pawnee behind the prisoners.