I had ridden away to the red dune to carry food to my brothers and the dogs and the sentinels.
The day was beginning already to draw to a close. The sky all above was blue and clear, but along the horizon lay a bank of grey rolling clouds, that soon would be changed to crimson and gold by the rays of the setting sun. Hawks were poised high in the air, and flocks of kites were slowly winging their way to the eastward.
From our position on the summit of the red dune we had a most extended view on all sides. We could even see the tall waving poplars of our own estancias, and away westward a vast rolling prairie of pampa land, bounded by the distant sierras. My eyes were directed to one level and snow-white patch in the plain, which might have been about three square miles in extent, when suddenly out from behind some dunes that lay beyond rode a party of horsemen. We could tell at a glance they were Indians, and that they were coming as fast as fleet horses could carry them, straight for the hill on which we stood. There was not a moment to lose, so, leaping to the back of my mule, I hurried away to warn our party.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A RIDE FOR LIFE.
'Moncrieff!' I cried, as soon as I got within hail, 'the Indians will be on us in less than half an hour!'
'Then, boy,' replied Moncrieff, 'call in your brothers and the men; they cannot hold the dune. We must fight them here, if it be fighting they mean. Hurry back, I have something to show you.'
We had all returned in less than ten minutes. Greatly to our astonishment, we found no one in the pit now, but we heard voices beneath, and I hurried in and down.