They could not distinguish white men from red at that distance. They could only see that there were four people in the craft behind them, and as it was impossible for them to conjecture the true state of things, it was most natural to suppose that those four men were foes.
The outbreak of which they had witnessed the beginning, and from which they had fled, had ended, they did not doubt, in the arrest of Buffalo Bill and Congo and the sending of the canoe after themselves.
So they fled, and as they put all their strength to their oars, the chase was a long one.
“It’s just as I expected,” said a man named Hutton, who was not by any means a courageous fellow, and had been one of the foremost in counseling Captain Meinhold to leave. “That obstinate fellow Cody has brought ruin upon us all. Here we are now with four or five Indians after us, and probably more behind, and nothing but a pistol or two to defend ourselves with. In a little while they will be within rifle shot, and then they will begin to fire upon us.”
So they made for the shore with a view of scattering and hiding in the wood until night. But they were a long way from the land, having kept far out for safety.
In spite of the most exhausting labor at the oars, the Indians gained on them. The canoe, increasing its speed and taking a diagonal course, was soon within bullet range.
While, however, the wearied fugitives were expecting a shot and were watching for the leveling of the guns, so that they might throw themselves down in the bottom of the boat, they saw a more welcome sight.
Two hats were waved in the air, and, as the Indians did not wear hats, the conclusion was inevitable that they were followed by friends instead of foes.
A closer inspection, which but for their alarm they might sooner have made, justified this hope, and they turned joyfully to meet their pursuers.