“There are boys in charge, pards, but soon after night braves will come to relieve them, we may be sure, so we will be ready to move the moment the shadows deepen in the valley.
“Three of you go to the farther end of the herd and mount, and we will go to the end near the village, so when you start they’ll follow under our driving.
“You take the lead, corporal, and keep the ponies going at full speed when they get started.”
The men understood the plan, and in half an hour it was dark.
Of course, supper was not to be thought of then, and, while Corporal Milk led the way to the lower end of the herd, Buffalo Bill and those with him rounded up the ponies feeding nearest to the Indian village.
Good ponies were caught without trouble, the scouts mounted, and, with their lariats for bridles, began to urge the herd forward.
The men lay low on the backs of the ponies, so as not to be seen, and, as the corporal and those with him dashed off on the leaders, the other scouts pushing the herd upon them, the two startled Indian boys could just get out of the way as the stampeded animals went flying down the valley.
What stampeded them those two boys could not tell, but their shrill cries gave the alarm, as well as did the thunder of hundreds of hoofs.
There were braves in the village who had ponies near their tepees, and as soon as they could they dashed off in pursuit.
But the stampeded ponies had over a mile the start before the warriors could get away, and that meant a long, hard chase unless the ponies stopped of their own free will.