The young warrior was not a man to worry over even the worst that might happen. The matter was in the hands of the Great Manitou, and when his time came he would die as bravely as he had lived.
CHAPTER X.
IN THE RAPIDS.
In a few days Red Cloud was sufficiently recovered to travel, and Buffalo Bill was glad of the opportunity to carry out his mission at last.
The Indian and the scout mounted their horses, which were very fresh and mettlesome after their long rest in camp, and each man secretly admired the great skill and horsemanship which the other showed.
“You are a great rider, Red Cloud,” said Buffalo Bill, after he had watched his blood brother for a few moments, sitting his horse like a bronzed statue as it reared and bucked and cavorted in all directions.
A gratified smile shone on the Indian’s face, and he replied:
“Would my brother care to try to mount this horse? No other man but myself has ever ridden him. Once he kicked a brave to death who tried to ride him.”
“I don’t mind trying,” said the border king, who had never yet met the horse that he could not subdue.