“No. The scaly rascal left his men to bear the brunt of the trouble, and he’s under shelter half-way down the hill.”
“Can’t we get him?”
“With those reds tearing up to his aid?”
“Oh, by thunder, Bill! I hoped to either kill the scoundrel or bring him in.”
“So did I.”
“But we can’t risk staying here longer.”
“You’re right there, Dick. Come on. The men have gone.”
The scout and the lieutenant followed their men down the hill. And none too soon, for the redskins soon found that their white brethren had been outwitted by the soldiers, and they came tearing along the valley trail to try and head the refugees off.
They were not successful in that, however. Every trooper came in, they mounted at the command, and with fresh horses under them soon outdistanced all pursuit.
“It’s getting too lively for us,” said Buffalo Bill, in disgust. “We can’t chance it with such a small force. I hate to give it up; but we must.”