"I'll bring back the medicine man dead or alive," he swore under his breath.
Twilight was deepening and Jesse went more boldly on. But he had made a fatal move. He had done a thing that he would not have done had his band of hardy outlaws been with him, for then Jesse's sense of responsibility would have been doubly heavy.
He might expose his own life to peril unnecessarily. But for his companions, no. He took no more chances than was necessary where they were concerned.
During the brief moment that he had stood poised on the rock, however, the field glass of a United States Cavalry officer chanced to be trained on that very spot. More than that the pair of eyes behind the glass, also chanced to belong to the very officer with whom the band had mixed it up earlier.
The Captain uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Quick! mount!" he commanded. "Not a word as you value your lives."
Trained to instant obedience, the troopers sprang into their saddles. They did not know what the order portended, nor did they care. The Captains manner meant that there was excitement ahead and that a brush with the red skins was more than likely at no distant moment.
"Red skins?" asked the young Lieutenant, in a low voice, riding up beside his superior officer.
"Worse," was his laconic reply. "James, and he was alone when I saw him. I think he is out reconnoitering. We'll bag him this time I hope."
"That ought to be easy if he is alone," returned the Lieutenant.