Carl had no idea of attempting to escape while the squawman was in the sweat-box. There were too many bucks all around him; and, besides, he had some preparations to make. He wanted to get rid of his boots and borrow a blanket to conceal his moleskin suit. Thus equipped, he believed that when the Ghost Dance was at its height he could slip away, and those who met him on the road, seeing nothing but the moccasins he wore and the blanket wrapped around his head, would surely take him for one of their own number and say nothing to him. He believed that he would try it, anyway.
“The only question is in regard to these women,” soliloquized Carl. “If they get excited and go down there to see the dance, I can make it. If I once get over these hills they will never see me again. But suppose I am overtaken? Well,” he added, clutching his hands about his revolvers, “I won’t be tied to the stake without some of them going with me.”
Carl glanced at the women and saw that they had seated themselves opposite to him, and, wrapped up in their blankets, appeared to take no notice of anything; but he knew better than to attempt anything while they were on watch. They sat side by side, but never exchanged words with each other. The day and night wore on until it was twelve o’clock, but still no sounds came from the camp. Finally Carl grew tired of doing nothing and went into the tepee. He picked out a bed, the most comfortable one in the lot and as far away from the others as he could get it, and stretched himself out upon it. He thought of Lieutenant Parker, wondered what the Ghost Dance was going to be, and then passed off into the land of dreams.
Morning came at length, and Carl raised himself on his elbow to find the squawman fast asleep on a bed by his side. He got up and went to the door to examine things. He saw that some changes had been made in the dancing-ground since he slept. A tree, denuded of all its branches except near the top, had been erected near the centre, and there was a staff, with a polished buffalo-horn on one end and a plumed horse-tail on the other; a bow with its bone arrows and a gaming wheel with its accompanying sticks were made fast below it. But prominent among all was something that attracted Carl’s attention and drew from him a sneer of disgust. It was the Star-Spangled Banner.
“I don’t see what the Government has done to be insulted in this way,” said he. “I think they had better leave that thing out.”
For want of something better to do Carl filled his pipe, and sat there and smoked it. There were a few braves stirring about with nothing on hand to do, and now and then one came out of his tepee and started toward the sweat-boxes. He was going to prepare himself for the dance. For an hour Carl sat there waiting for something to happen, and during that time the camp became thoroughly awake. One of the women came to the door and motioned him to enter—a sign that his breakfast was ready. The squawman still lay asleep on the bed, but the kettle had been taken off the fire and occupied its usual place in the centre of the tepee.
“This meat is not half done,” said Carl, trying to scoop up a piece from the middle of the pot. “You ought to be at our camp for a little while. They would show you how to cook a breakfast.”
While Carl was engaged in lighting his pipe at the fire, a commotion suddenly arose in the camp. It did not take the form of yells, as it usually did, but there were subdued growls and the scurrying of feet hurrying toward the dancing-ground. Carl wanted to see what was the matter, and so he hastened out. The dancing-ground was alive with Indians, all thoroughly armed, who stood watching the approach of three horsemen coming toward them. Carl felt for his binoculars, but they were away, keeping company with his horse and rifle.
“Those are Indian policemen, if I ever saw them,” said he. “What do they want here? If I could only make them see me. Eh? What do you want?” he added, turning fiercely upon one of the Indian women who seized him by the arm and tried to draw him inside the tepee. “Get away.”
Carl abruptly thrust out his foot and tumbled the woman over backwards. She fell all in a heap, but at the same time she uttered a yell so loud and piercing that it straightway aroused the squawman, who came out with a rush.