“You see it now, you mean,” said Robert. “It is right on the top of my head, just where it has always been.”
“Why,” said Joseph, “I killed an Indian out on the prairie who had two scalps at his belt. One of them had red hair, just the color of yours. I was sure you had been killed.”
“Not I,” laughed Robert. “Deerfoot and I wasted no time on the prairie. We were among the first to reach Dixon’s. We were worried about you, though. When you didn’t turn up we were almost sure you had been killed. What have you been doing all this time and how did you escape?”
Joseph related his experiences again and then some moments were spent in admiring Joseph’s new horse, The Swallow. “He is certainly a beauty!” exclaimed Robert enthusiastically. “I can easily see that everyone is going to be very jealous of you, Joe.”
“Let them!” laughed Joseph. “They can do anything they want, but they can’t take my pony and they can’t catch him either.”
Deerfoot again appeared at this moment, bringing some food for Joseph. When the young man’s hunger had been appeased and the horses had been cared for, the three companions set out for a tour of the camp. Everywhere were little excited groups of men talking about the battle. Some of the men had not even returned to Dixon’s Ferry, but had kept right on to their homes, having had enough of Indian warfare.
One gathering contained faces familiar to the boys and this one they joined. Walt was in the center doing most of the talking.
“Yes,” he was saying, “just as I passed that ravine at least a hundred Indians came tearing out at me. They were yelling like a pack of wolves and firing off their guns as fast as they could load them. I shot two of them, but they were too many and I finally decided to run for it. I have the satisfaction of knowing that I finished a couple of them anyway.”
“Where was that ravine, Walt?” asked Joseph curiously.
“Hello, there, my boy!” exclaimed Walt, catching sight of Joseph. “Glad to see you back. We were afraid you had fallen by the wayside. Why, that ravine I was speaking of was near a clump of woods about a mile this side of where our camp was pitched.”