The sun was just an hour from the western horizon, when they resumed their way, Kit Carey having been off a short distance examining what he called "signs," and he muttered to himself:
"I don't half like them."
But as cheerily as before he raised his charge to her saddle, and said:
"Let us push on for the trail at a gallop, Miss Foshay."
"You have made some discoveries, Lieutenant Carey, which you do not wish to tell me?"
"No, I'll tell you frankly, that I believe we will run upon some band of redskins, but with what treatment at their hands I cannot tell. Be ready to ride like the wind, or halt and wheel for a race, Miss Foshay, for we had better run for it than trust to an Indian's humor just now."
"You are captain, sir, so give your orders to run, or fight and I obey," was the plucky response of the young girl.
Kit Carey smiled and remarked:
"I like your pluck, Miss Foshay, so will frankly tell you that if aught should happen to me, ride straight east until you strike the broad trail to the agency. Then wheel to the left and your horse will carry you in all right, never fear."
"But what could happen to you, Lieutenant Carey?"