The sun was far down when we resumed our march—our last march along the war-trail.
Chapter Eighty Two.
An “Injun on the Back-Track.”
We had advanced about a mile farther, when our scouts—who, as usual, had gone forward to reconnoitre—having ascended a swell of the prairie, were observed crouching behind some bushes that grew upon its crest.
We all drew bridle to await the result of their reconnoissance. The peculiar attitude in which they had placed themselves, and the apparent earnestness with which they glanced over the bushes, led us to believe that some object was before their eyes of more than common interest.
So it proved. We had scarcely halted, when they were seen to retire suddenly from the cover, and rising erect, run at full speed back down the hill—at the same time making signals to us to conceal ourselves in the timber.
Fortunately, there was timber near; and in a few seconds we had all ridden into it, taking the horses of the trappers along with us.
The declivity of the hill enabled the scouts to run with swiftness; and they were among the trees almost as soon as we.