“Have you done much fighting with the confederated tribes while we have been away?” asked Buffalo Bill.
“No,” replied the officer. “They have kept carefully out of our way. They retreated to the mountains, where our troops could not follow them. We have had a few small skirmishes, but they are still unconquered. They have been gathering strength lately, according to the reports brought in by my scouts, and I am expecting them soon to descend down into the plains again and assume the offensive.”
“Will you be ready to meet them?” asked Buffalo Bill.
“Yes, with the help of the troops at Fort Hays. The commandant there and I have arranged to move together against the redskins as soon as they give us a chance. Between us, we ought to be able to account for any number of them.”
The commandant’s expectations were justified that very night.
A scout came riding in, with his horse all used up and himself on the point of exhaustion. He staggered into the commandant’s headquarters, where Buffalo Bill was dining as a guest, and sank limply into a chair.
Buffalo Bill saw at a glance that the man had been through a very rough experience. So it proved when, revived by a glass of wine, he told his story.
He had been scouting away up in the hills, and had witnessed the descent down into the plains of several large war parties of the three allied tribes. He had been detected by one party, and had been forced to flee for his life. After a long and hard chase, he managed to escape from his pursuers shortly before he came in sight of the fort.
The man was closely questioned as to the course the Indians had taken, and he said the war parties were converging on a point by the bank of a river about midway between the two forts where they were going to establish their military camp.
“This news must be carried to Fort Hays at once,” said Cody.