“I will try to take care of myself,” was the cheerful answer.
“Never mind me, old fellow; but, if we do go under, why, redskins’ scalps will be a drug in the market,” and a sad smile played upon Red Hand’s face.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE WAR CRY.
Night, serenely beautiful, with its silver moon lighting up the bold scenery upon every hand, came again to the Black Hills, and the shadow of the mountains fell upon the miners’ fort, where all seemed lost in deep repose. But the silence resting there was a treacherous one, for within those stockade walls were half a hundred brave men resting upon their arms and awaiting the coming of their foes, who, all knew, were to hurl themselves against them that night.
Since the day before, when he had left the valley retreat with Red Hand, Buffalo Bill had been constantly on the move, scouting about the hills, and his reconnoissance had discovered the plan of attack decided upon by the Indians.
According to promise, Pearl had met him in the gorge, and told him that from the ledge she had witnessed the coming of Kansas King, and heard all that had passed between him and her father, who had told the outlaw chief that the night following he would come to his camp with five hundred warriors, and that they would together move on the miners’ stronghold.
Kansas King had agreed to Gray Chief’s plans, and then took his departure, apparently satisfied with the good faith of his allies. As for the old hermit, he laughed in his sleeve at the way he had fooled the outlaw, for it was his intention that very night to hurl his whole force upon the robber camp, and, after a general massacre, to divide his warriors into two parties and at once attack the two paleface encampments.
As soon as he learned the plans of the Indians, and also heard from Pearl about the arrival of the cavalry in the Black Hills, Buffalo Bill at once set out on his return to the stronghold.