"Somewhere near here, looking for you," I answered; and with a queer, choking croon of relief she sank back upon her couch.
"If we are too late, it is Far Thunder's fault," White Wolf said to me sternly. "His message was that the cut-throats were encamped upon their own river in the north. Why should we hurry, then, when they were more than twice as far from you as we were? Well, tell us how it is!"
I explained our situation in a few words, but, few as they were, they set White Wolf afire. "There is no time to lose! Come! Quick to Big Lake's lodge!"
We ran and burst in upon the head chief, who was still lying under his robes. I had not half finished telling why I had come when he had one of his women running for the camp-crier. Five minutes later the crier and several volunteers were hurrying up and down the long camp calling out the warriors and ordering the clan chiefs and the chiefs of the bands of the All Friends Society to hurry to a council in Big Lake's lodge.
They came, running and eager, and in a very short time it was decided what bands of the society should hurry on to fight the cut-throats and what ones should guard the following camp. About six hundred men were ordered to be ready to start as soon as possible, each one with his two best horses.
The boys and the old men were running in the herds as White Wolf and I returned to his lodge. I told one of the women to catch for me two certain horses in our band and fell upon the food that was set before me. Then, just as we began eating, we heard a great outcry near by, and Pitamakan came in and sat beside his father, who fondly patted him on the shoulder. His horse had played out at the It-Crushed-Them Creek buttes, and he had remained there all night.
Now the warriors were beginning to gather out in front of the center of the camp, each band round its chief. We soon joined them with our fresh mounts. Raising the war song, and followed by the cries of the women calling upon us to be of good courage and win, we set out upon our ride to the Musselshell.