“You bet they did.”
“Something doing there, then, boys.”
“I reckon you’re right, Buffler.”
“Here, Barney, you ride back and tell Captain Taylor to halt his column. Judd, you and I leave our horses here and go ahead to reconnoiter. Savvy?”
“Sure!”
Barney rode back. Judd and Buffalo Bill discarded their mounts and went ahead afoot.
Oak Heart was a born general, and, like old Colorow, of the Utes, displayed abilities in planning his campaigns that placed him head and shoulders above the average redskin chieftain. There have been few great warriors among the red Indians. Red Jacket, Black Eagle, Tecumseh, Colorow, and a few others have possessed unnatural characteristics for redskins, and that is why they left their mark on Indian history.
And Oak Heart had sufficient control over his warriors to make them do something which above all things a redskin hates. He made them fight at night!
Now, the Indian is a spiritualist of the most pronounced breed. By day the spirits of the dead, and those powerful beings which he believes control men’s affairs, sleep; by night these supernatural beings walk abroad, and no Southern darky is more afraid of seeing a ghost than a redskin. The medicine chiefs, who are, most of them, a set of unconscionable fakers, foster this belief in ghosts and evil spirits and so prey on the tribes.
Indians often select the hour just before dawn to strike their enemies, because at that time man usually sleeps more deeply. But to make a forced march and lay an ambuscade in the middle of the night—well, this proved Oak Heart’s mastery of his tribe. Buffalo Bill suspected that the herd of deer had been frightened by something more than a single redskin—or a small scouting-party of them. He knew Oak Heart’s abilities and respected them. Rash as the scout might be at times, he never took foolish chances. To lead the rescue-party into the head of the cañon might bring it to complete ruin.