On it came, winding along the trail, around a ravine here, avoiding rugged land there, and so on to the hills.
At last the dust cloud floated away, and it left revealed a party of horsemen who suddenly rode out upon harder soil, where there was no light powdered earth to make clouds about them.
"They are Indians," he said, with a tone of evident relief, as he recognized their costumes, dark faces, and ponies.
"Yes, and that is Red Hatchet in the lead. I am glad of that; but why has he brought so many warriors with him, for he has one, two, three," and he went on counting until he ended with: "Thirty! Now, if he met Carey and his band of Cheyennes, whom I am confident are prowling about here, there would be trouble. Ah! he is going to take the other trail, so I must signal him."
As he spoke he threw up a pile of fine straw and stuck a match under it.
Instantly a dense smoke began to curl upward in a column, and he kept it from blazing by piling on more straw.
Then he suddenly threw over it his India rubber blanket, and the smoke was cut off.
Taking off the blanket he let the smoke ascend again, then shut it off, and repeating this three times, he quickly put out the fire.
The redskins had noted the very first curl of the smoke upward, and came to a halt.
They saw the column cut off and rise again, and this was done for the third time, when the smoke disappeared altogether.