“We are getting close to them,” he gloated. “In a day or two we may be able to make a raid.”
They traveled until dark. Again Bent Arrow cared for the horses while his uncle made camp. This time, when Bent Arrow returned to camp, there was no fire.
“We’ll eat some of the dried meat we brought,” Flying Arrow told him. “The Sioux have sharp noses. Even the smallest fire might give off enough smoke to warn them.”
Bent Arrow glanced around quickly as though expecting to find a Sioux watching from the brush near by.
“They aren’t that close,” Flying Arrow said with a smile. “Probably they are half a sun’s ride ahead of us.”
Bent Arrow knew that the Sioux would have little chance to surprise them. Flying Eagle heard every noise, no matter how slight, and he always knew the meaning of the noise. Nevertheless, he had a feeling of uneasiness as he crawled into his blankets to sleep. The moment that he fell asleep, he dreamed that he saw an eagle soaring overhead. In his dream he followed the eagle, hoping it would drop a feather. He followed the eagle over hills and across a small stream. At last a feather fell from the eagle and floated down. As Bent Arrow was running to get the feather, some sound awakened him.
Although it was still dark, Bent Arrow could see his uncle moving about. Silently Bent Arrow crawled out of his blankets.
“I’m going to scout ahead on foot,” Flying Arrow explained. “It may be that I can reach the Sioux camp.”
“Let me go with you,” Bent Arrow urged.
Flying Arrow shook his head.