The Utes were rapidly widening their circles, running round and round like hunting dogs that have lost a game trail. Apparently Benson had convinced them that other white men had tampered with the cache, and they were now furiously resolved to pick up the trail of these interlopers and properly punish them for such an outrage.
Buffalo Bill gave the order to retreat.
“I hates ter go,” Nomad declared.
“No wuss’n I do,” said Betts. “I wouldn’t be keerin’, if only I had Gorilla Jake by the slack o’ the neck, takin’ him along with me.”
Buffalo Bill and the man from Laramie dropped behind to hide the trail; a work which they so thoroughly accomplished that the retreat was effected quickly and safely.
From the top of a tree on a hill some distance off, as the sun was going down, Buffalo Bill saw the Utes streaming back toward their village, the two white men with them. The Utes were howling like drunken maniacs.
Jim Betts set out shortly after dark with the intention of hastening to Blossom Range that he might hurry assistance to Buffalo Bill’s small party. Throughout the whole afternoon the hope had been held that a strong force would appear from the town, to avenge the death of the sheriff and his men, but the help had not come. Jim Betts had been selected because his legs were long and he was a rapid and tireless walker. No horses were to be had, as those of the scout’s party were too far away.
But a wise man makes sudden changes in his plans when there seems reason for so doing.
Hence, instead of striking straight out at his best gait, Jim Betts did not go toward the town at all, after he had proceeded less than half a mile in that direction but turned toward the Ute village.