The superstitious dread of the Indians all knew would allow them to believe that the evil spirit had been angry with them for taking the paleface.
The scouts turned toward the base of the mountains and went along the range.
Mile after mile they held on until a stream was come to, flowing out of a cañon, a march of fully a dozen miles had been made, and in a secure spot Buffalo Bill encamped his men.
Then the swollen limbs of the rescued prisoner were bathed, arnica put on them, and a good meal cooked for all to enjoy, for Buffalo Bill saw that a bend in the range would completely hide the smoke from the Indians up the valley.
It was a good place, too, where the gold could be hidden, for Don Miller proudly said there was not a man in the party but whom he would trust with the secret.
If the people of the valley were found, the retreat would be up the Big Horn to that point, at least, whether they were making for Fort Aspen or Fort Fetterman, and the gold could be taken up and carried along or a special expedition made for it.
So the gold, in bright, glittering particles, from the size of a pinhead to an acorn, and nuggets as large as a hen’s egg, were packed more closely and hidden in a crevice in the cliff overhanging the cañon.
The march was not resumed that day, for Buffalo Bill wished to see whether the Indians did follow, and, if so, that was a splendid place for a stand, if as “black spirits” the scouts could not frighten them off, and had consequently a fight on their hands.
The next morning, as not an Indian had been seen, the party took up the march.