"You should have called me before, Jehiel, you will not get much sleep, I am afraid."
"Who keers a durn? I'll be ready when you are!" and Jehiel sought his blankets and sleep.
Kelly began his watch, keeping in the shade of the bushes, and for nearly an hour he heard no unusual noise. Then the breaking of a twig between himself and the camp-fire of the strangers alarmed him, and he crouched down to the ground the better to watch the movements of whatever was prowling around.
The object was moving as stealthily as a cat, and Kelly could not discover it until it passed an open spot where the fire light reflected upon it, when he made the somewhat alarming discovery of a Sioux warrior; and he had barely time to notice that he was in his war-paint.
The question arose, what should he do? The problem was solved by the Indian himself, who was now coming straight toward the tree behind which the scout was concealed.
Nearer and nearer he came, until the brave scout could hear him breathe, and as he passed the tree could have touched him.
The Indian halted to listen, and apparently satisfied, started on. He had taken but one step when the scout sprung upon him, and with a single blow of the keen-pointed knife the Indian sunk to the ground without a groan.
It was but the work of a moment for the scout to secure the horses, and lead them to the camp.
Here he gave Jehiel a kick which brought that worthy to his feet with "Durn yer pictur'," when he was interrupted by Kelly placing his hand over his mouth, and saying:
"Keep still, and saddle the horses; the Indians are here."