"Here's Kit Cruncher, too," I added, unwilling that my stalwart ally should be ignored.
Mr. Gracewood shook hands with Kit, who was duly introduced to the lieutenant.
"I'm hyer, Mr. Mell'ton, or Mr. Greasewood—if that's your name."
"Gracewood," interposed the happy Ella.
"Jest so; Greasewood—that's what I say. I'm hyer, and I want to tell the cap'n whar the redskins is; but I don't reckon my story'll spile while Phil tells you about the gal. Go on, boy; wag your tongue as fast as you wagged your legs to-day."
"I've had rather a long tramp to-day, and I'll sit down and rest while we talk," I answered, availing myself of a log.
I related minutely all the circumstances of the recapture of Ella, and gave her explanation of the plan by which the Indians had escaped from the soldiers.
"I never thought of those dugouts," said the lieutenant. "We have not been near the river to-day."
"Now, cap'n," interposed Kit Cruncher, "the Injuns from the nor'ard is on a rampage. More'n a hund'ed on 'em is camped on the head streams of the Little Fish, working down this way. They mean to wipe out all on us. They stole Matt's hosses, but we got 'em back. Then they kim down on us, and two or three on 'em got shot. Now the whole on 'em's comin' down."
"I will take care of them if you will show me where they are," added the officer.