“There’s Injun signs about, Billy, so keep your eyes open.”
So said the station boss of the Pony Express trail, addressing Buffalo Bill, who had dashed up to the cabin, his horse panting like a hound, and the rider ready for the fifteen-mile flight to the next relay. “I’ll be on the watch, Boss, you bet,” said Billy Cody, the pony rider, and with a yell to his fresh pony he was off like an arrow from a bow.
Down the trail ran the fleet pony like the wind, leaving the station quickly out of sight, and dashing at once into the solitude and dangers of the vast wilderness.
Mountains were upon either side, towering cliffs here and there overhung the trail, and the wind sighed through the forest of pines like the mourning of departed spirits.
Gazing ahead, the piercing eyes of the young pony rider saw every tree, bush, and rock, for he knew but too well that a deadly foe, lurking in ambush, might send an arrow or a bullet to his heart at any moment.
Gradually, far ahead down the valley, his quick glance fell upon a dark object above the bowlder directly in his trail.
He saw the object move and disappear from sight down behind the rock.
Without appearing to notice it or checking his speed in the slightest he held steadily upon his way.
But he took in the situation at a glance, and saw that upon each side of the bowlder the valley inclined.
Upon one side was a fringe of heavy timber, upon the other a precipice, at the base of which were massive rocks.