"Ho, ho, ho!" roared the Piegans, clapping their hands joyfully.
Red Knife dashed out of the shelter, having gazed with admiration on their bold, brave flight, and neat shooting at full speed. At the announcement of the new arrival, he waved his mantle in the sign of welcome, and called,
"Come to our bosom!"
The two fugitives dashed up the gentle slope to the camp ingress.
In the meantime, the pursuers, having secured the pack animals and the riderless horses, as well as seen to the wounded, came on apace, having momentarily lost sight of their objects. On crossing the frothy stream they beheld them cantering into the Piegan camp. They were convulsed with impotent rage as they pulled up smartly. Slowly they continued their march, only five of them now.
But as fifty Indians mounted and rode out from the entrenchments, they stopped afresh to consult. At length one rode out of the mass and made the sign of peace. There was no reply for two or three minutes. But the Half-breed was not to be so easily disheartened, and making the sign again, cried out in Chinook that he was a friend of the red man, who requested a hearing of their rulers.
It was Red Knife, who haughtily demanded the grounds for his request.
"'Tis an important matter for the chief's own ear."
"Good! Let the hunter wait," and measured off on the sky so many minutes with his forefinger.
The parleyers were forced to submit. But they were galled on perceiving why the delay was imposed. Some forty of the Piegans, stealing out of the secret gate, had gone over the river and were about surrounding the wounded men and the lassoed horses. The Red River Rovers gazed at one another "like crabs in a net," all eyes protruding; but knowing the kind of folk they were dealing with, they had to pretend tranquillity.