“I am of that opinion also,” observed Lieutenant Gardiner; “but I would like to have your ideas upon the subject, as an old Indian-fighter. You know the best tactics to adopt against these savages.”
By common consent Glyndon found himself constituted the leader of the party. He accepted the position as a matter-of-course, and proceeded to develop his plan of action.
“Well, you see, Leftenant, my idea is just this,” he said: “Smoholler doesn’t know of the arrival of Multuomah and his Nez Perces, and so he doesn’t anticipate any attack from us. He’s got a party outlying at the mouth of the ravine yonder, probably a dozen braves, to keep an eye on us, but his main force is on the cliff, where, I opine, there’s some kind of a cave.”
“Yes; he told me that there was a mystic cavern in the cliff,” remarked Percy Vere.
“I thought so. There’s a way up to the top, as the trail we found plainly shows. Now you can go to him again, my boy, as he might tell you about your father, and as soon as it gets to be dark we’ll move quietly through the ravine, surprise his scouts, and surround the cliff on this side, while Multuomah and his braves cross the river above and unite with us guarding the other side. Then we’ll have ’em just like rats in a trap. When he finds out what we are doing you can just tell him that we have been reinforced by a hundred Nez Perces—and mention Multuomah’s name, for he must have heard of him—and that we want the girl Oneotah, and will allow him to march off if he gives her up.”
“Good!” ejaculated Multuomah.
“The plan appears to be a good one,” rejoined Lieutenant Gardiner; “but there is one drawback to it.”
“What’s that?”
“The Prophet, in his rage at thus finding himself surrounded, might cause the boys to be slaughtered.”
The surveyors were also of this opinion, and so said.