Separating themselves from the led ponies, these scouts swept on down the hill directly upon the solitary and minute figure of Wolf Robe, whose pony climbed slowly and in zigzag course.
"They will kill him," said a woman.
Wolf Robe halted and waited till the skirmishers rode up to him. They massed round him closely, listening while he delivered his message.
"When he returns we will know all that his people have learned of the invaders," said Curtis. "They will tell him what they have seen."
"It is strange," exclaimed Elsie, in a low voice, standing close beside him. "But I'm not afraid. It is like a story—a dream. That I should stand here watching Indians preparing for war and waiting for United States troops is incredible."
"I wish it were not true," he replied. "But it is. I have no fear of my people, only of the rash act of a vicious white man."
"Which way will the cattlemen come from?" asked Jennie.
"Probably down that trail." He pointed to the northeast. "Part of them may come up the valley road. Wolf Robe has started on his return."
The little squad of warriors returned to the group of chieftains, while the loyal Wolf Robe came racing down the slope, his hair streaming, his elbows flapping. In a few minutes he dropped rein at the gate and re-entered the yard. Standing before his chief, he delivered his message.
"Their hearts are very glad at your good words, but the women are crying for their babies. They ask that you send them away before the bad white men come. Send them out towards the hills and they will come down and get them—this they said."