“They have planned well, indeed, sir, and are in dread of your advance, for they think you have two-thirds of the force from the fort. Fighting Bird is in command at the ford here, and he is a plucky, able chief. The shots did some damage at each ford, for half a dozen warriors were killed opposite to us, two at the upper camp, and one at the lower, while a score were wounded, as the shells dropped right into their midst. Then, too, they lost a number of ponies by the shelling.”
“We did do some service then, at random.”
“Yes, sir, and they will be most cautious about recrossing the river for some time to come.”
“I hope they will not allow us to rust in camp.”
“No danger of that, lieutenant, for they are Indians, and they will break out in a new spot when they think you have forced them to lie quiet,” remarked Buffalo Bill.
“There is one thing I did not like, lieutenant.”
“What is that, sergeant?”
“The outlaw chief has left the camps.”
“Indeed?”