“Nothing but the coyotes.”
The guide listened a moment, and then turned his horse and rode down the stream, Lieutenant Parker keeping close at his heels. Presently he turned again and rode down the bank, and then there was the splashing of water beneath his horse’s hoofs. The ford was a shallow one, and how Carl had struck it in that darkness was a marvel. It continued for perhaps five minutes, and then Parker felt himself mounting the opposite bank. He stopped his horse when his guide did and listened intently, but he heard no sound of any kind.
“Now, sir, you may go as fast as you please,” said Carl.
“How far is the fort from here?”
“About fifty miles.”
“But the Sioux will hear us.”
“No, they won’t. They are off somewhere attending that Ghost Dance.”
Lieutenant Parker waited to hear no more. If his guide thought it safe to go with the full speed of their horses it was nothing to him. He drew up on the reins, touched his horse with his spurs, and went away like the wind.