He crawled down the hill a short distance toward the Sioux camp. It would have been easier to go along the rim to a point directly above Rock, but he would have been shadowed against the sky line. He would have been visible to any Sioux warrior who might have chanced to look up.
While Bent Arrow was still some distance away, Rock raised his head and sniffed suspiciously. For a terrible moment Bent Arrow was sure the horse was going to run. Rock sniffed again and then took a hesitant step toward Bent Arrow. Now was the time. Slowly Bent Arrow got to his feet. Rock stood quietly as Bent Arrow approached. A moment later Bent Arrow was on the horse’s back.
Bent Arrow looked around. He saw his uncle mounting a horse. A moment later the wild Crow battle cry rang out. Bent Arrow sent Rock charging at the nearest horse. When that horse turned and raced toward the campfire, Rock charged another one. It was a wild, blurred time as Bent Arrow kept his horse circling the herd and stampeding it toward the campfire. From the noise at the other side of the herd, he could tell that Flying Arrow was being equally successful. It took only a very few minutes completely to stampede the herd and send it charging straight at the Sioux camp.
The Sioux warriors had been aroused. They had sprung up and were waving their arms and shouting, trying to stop the horses, but they were too late. The wild stampede could not be stopped. For a few moments the Sioux bravely held their ground, but at the last moment they turned and dashed into the grove of trees for protection. The horses swerved around the grove and raced on across the valley.
Bent Arrow kept Rock close on the heels of the last horse on one side of the herd. Flying Arrow was riding close to the last horse on the other side.
The moment the horses veered to go around the trees, the Sioux warriors sprang into action. Arrows whistled around Bent Arrow’s head as he crouched low over Rock’s neck. It took only a moment for the horses to get out of bowshot.
Arrows whistled around his head
The horses continued their wild stampede across the valley and started up the hill at the other side. Here they were slowed. The hill was so steep that the horses plunged and struggled to move forward at all. Again arrows whistled around Bent Arrow’s head. The Sioux had raced across the level valley to the foot of the hills. The slower speed of the horses had given the warriors a chance to get within range again. A horse, a little to the left and just ahead of Bent Arrow, crumpled to the ground. Bent Arrow felt a searing pain along his left shoulder.
The volley of arrows broke off suddenly. At first, Bent Arrow thought they had again got out of range. A quick look over his shoulder showed him this wasn’t true. The Sioux were dangerously close. Then he realized that the warriors were so sure they would recapture their horses that they were taking no chances of arrows hitting any more of them. And then, unexpectedly, Bent Arrow found himself at the top of the hill. The herd of horses was again running at a wild speed. Bent Arrow raised his voice in the triumphant Crow victory cry.