His little task, his success at it, and the praise of his comrades cheered him wonderfully. When he had taken them the second cups of coffee and had also served himself, he put out the coals, picked up his rifle and rejoined the others. The first faint breath of the twilight was appearing over the mountains. The great ridges and peaks were growing dim and afar the wind of night was moaning.
"It'll be dark soon," said the Little Giant, "an' then we'll hev to watch with all our eyes an' all our ears. Onless the Sioux attack under kiver o' the night they won't attack at all."
"They'll come. Don't you worry about that, Tom," said Boyd. "The Sioux are as brave fighters as any that tread the earth, and they want our scalps bad, particularly yours. If I was an Indian and loved scalps as they do, I'd never rest until I got yours. The hair is so thick and it stands up so much, I'd give it a place of honor in my tepee, and whenever my warrior friends came in for a sociable evening's talk I'd tell 'em how I defeated you in battle and took your scalp, which is the king scalp."
"It's a comply-ment you make me to call my scalp the king scalp, but no Indian will ever take it. Do you see something stirring down thar 'mong the little cedars? Young William, them glasses o' yourn a minute or two."
He made a careful study with the glasses, and, when he handed them back, he announced:
"They're movin' 'mong the cedars. I made out at least a half dozen thar. Ez soon ez it's good an' dark they're goin' to try to creep up on us. Well, let 'em. We kin see pretty nigh ez good in the dark ez in the light, can't we, Jim Boyd?"
"I reckon we can see good enough, Giant, to draw a bead on anything that comes creeping, creeping after our hair."
Again Will felt pride that he was associated with two such formidable champions of the wild, but he did not let pride keep him from selecting a good high stony outcrop behind which he lay with his rifle ready and his revolver loose in his belt. Now and then, however, he held his rifle in only one hand and used the glasses so valuable to him, and which he was beginning to prize so highly.
Much time passed, however, and it passed slowly. Young Clarke realized that the other name for the Sioux was patience, but it was hard on his nerves, nevertheless. He wanted to talk, he longed to ask questions of the two borderers, but his will kept him from doing so. He was resolved not to appear nervous or garrulous at such a time.
The night deepened. The twilight had passed long since. Many of the stars did not come out and heavy waves of dusk rolled up the valley. The slopes of the opposite mountain became invisible, nor did Will see the dwarf cedars in which his glasses told him a portion of the Sioux band had lain hidden.