“No more should I. But it’s ’bout time we war on the move, I reckon. It’s gittin’ late,” said Vic, rising to his feet.
“Thet’s so,” exclaimed Wild Nat; “so let’s tew hoss. Come on, Kent.”
Ten minutes later they were on their way.
It was a beautiful day, with an unusually clear atmosphere, and the tops of the distant mountains shone blue through the haze. Their way lay through a pleasant country, and, as they were gradually leaving the regions of the mountains, the timber increased in plenty and variety. Toward morning they came in view of Laramie Peak, while far to the south-east rose the dark summits of the Black Hills.
“How far distant is Fort Laramie?” asked Marion, as she gazed through the blue distance toward the hills.
“’Bout twenty miles,” replied Vic. “We hain’t made a very big journey to-day. Got started too late. Howsomever, we’ll git thar in purty good season to-morrow.”
“Gallinippers!” ejaculated Wild Nat, suddenly, in a suppressed tone. “Thar’s Injuns!”
“Where?” was the simultaneous question from the startled party.
“Thar!” replied Wild Nat, pointing toward the north-west with his right hand.
Four pair of eyes examined the horizon in the direction indicated, but two only saw what they sought. Vic, sharper sighted than the others, at once detected the enemy.