"Column left, march! Company, trot! Gallop! Follow me, boys!"
With a rising thunder of hoofs and a swirling dust cloud behind them, through which the glint of carbines, sabres, and accoutrements flashed in the sunshine, the cavalry swept over the hill in front and away. The General rode hotly after them to the crest and watched them streaming through the depression and up the slopes beyond. Then he laughed grimly.
"See the d—n Coyotes," he exclaimed. "They go like a flock of sheep! They'll kill their horses before they catch the redskins. Ride after them and tell Miner to take it easy."
Al, who ever since hearing the distressing news had been quivering with impotent rage over the cruel fate of his good friend, Captain Feilner, caught the General's last words. He turned with a swift salute, even as he put spurs to his horse.
"I'll tell him, General!" he cried, and rode away like the wind.
"Here, you!" cried the General, "Come back!"
But Al did not want to hear.
"Oh, let him go," Sully added, in a lower tone, "I reckon he's a Coyote himself," and he chuckled as he saw Al put his horse over a gully at the bottom of the hill and tear up the opposite rise close on the heels of the last ragged end of the racing Dakota Cavalry.