"They are retreating, sir?" asked the Sergeant.
"Of course they are. They cannot stand against anything like their own number."
While Guy stood with the flag in his hand, and wondering whether or not he ought to signal Colonel Fetterman's movement to the Fort, something surprising happened down there at the foot of the ridge. Where there were a dozen Indians before, there were two dozen now and more still coming. They were coming from one of those ravines that ran back from the left of the Fort. These two dozen Indians were promptly joined by two dozen more, and before Guy could think twice, the plain was fairly covered with them.
"My goodness! What is the meaning of that?" said he.
"They have run into an ambuscade, sir," said the Sergeant.
The young officer was so astonished at what he saw, that he never once thought of the flag he held in his hand. It was done so quickly that it appeared like a dream. While he looked more Indians came out. They made their appearance in a large body too, and, dividing right and left as they approached the column, soon surrounded it entirely, and nothing but frantic and yelling Sioux could be seen from the tower.
"My goodness!" he repeated, his face turning as white as the flag he held in his hand. "I must signal that, but I don't know what to say."
His men, one and all, offered some advice, but the signal Guy sent was something like this:—
"Large bodies of Indians in the ravine at the foot of the hill. They have attacked the re-enforcements."