Walter recalled Murray’s queer costume of the night before. What about those far-away figures? Were they buffalo?
The day was bright and clear. There was not a trace of haze in the air, now that the sun was climbing higher. And the land was so flat one could see for miles. There was no longer any doubt in Walter’s mind that there was something else coming from the northwest, far away still, far beyond the lone buffalo or horseman, but drawing nearer. Whether that something was a band of buffalo or of mounted men he could not tell, though he strained his eyes to make out.
Scar Face had made up his mind that this was no place for him to stay longer. Abruptly he turned back among the trees. Neil and Raoul asked no questions. With Walter they heeded the silent warning and followed the Indian back to the river.
With scarcely a word spoken, the Ojibwas paddled across the stream to the spot where the party that had taken the ford had left the water. Scar Face motioned to the boys to get out. He spoke earnestly to Raoul and Neil, and the latter translated to Walter.
“He wants us to go on, out of the way. He and his braves are going back to that little island.” Neil pointed to a low, willow-covered islet that parted the current just above where they had crossed and nearer to the west bank. “If it is Murray coming they will have a good chance at him from there.”
Taking for granted that there could be no objection to this manœuvre, Neil started along the trail, his comrades after him. The Indians stepped back into their canoes. Walter felt surprised that the hot-headed Neil should be so willing to run away from a fight. In a moment, however, he found that Neil had no intention of running away. Instead of seeking the open, the Scotch boy turned aside among the bushes. After searching a little, he found a spot that suited him.
“This will do,” he said, crouching down behind a spreading osier dogwood.
Joining Neil and looking between the red stems of the bush, Walter had an almost clear view of the river. He could see the lower end of the tiny islet and the spot on the opposite shore where the trail came to the water.
“You’re going to stay and see what happens?” he asked.
“Of course. We may have to take a hand in the fight. Murray and his Dakotas must not cross the river, Walter. We must see to that.”