CHAPTER XXII.
HICKOK OUTWITTED BY A THIEF.
Sitting silent as a spectre, listening to the grubbing teeth of the horses a few rods distant and for the sound of any approach down the gully on the other side, Wild Bill Hickok observed a ball of fire shoot up into the southern sky in the distance. It burned brightly for a moment and then disappeared. Immediately far in the east another sprang up, and then the west responded, but to the north Hickok could not observe over the higher land.
The Laramie man knew this to be some sort of Indian signals, but of course could not pretend to understand their meaning.
Shortly the signals were repeated, this time much nearer on all sides. The significance was that the country swarmed with redskins, and that he was in the centre of a vast tract on which there were an outer and an inner circle of hostile outposts.
Hickok became absorbed in his surroundings, and wondered why he and Buffalo Bill had not discovered some evidence of these war parties when they had studied the plain before night. He decided that the surface must be more uneven than it looked from this commanding position. He heard only the occasional snarl of a prowling coyote and the whispering breeze in the dead husks of the weeds.
And then he suddenly realized that he no longer heard the grubbing of the horses. He listened intently for some moments, but if the horses were still there they had satisfied their hunger, and were quietly enjoying the rest after a hard day’s work.
From the gulch came no sound, and at last the Laramie man stole cautiously down toward the spot where he had left the horses. He found the place easily enough, but both animals were gone.
“That is odd, not to say mysterious,” muttered Hickok. “I never had a horse slip his lariat before.”
He searched for the pins, and at last found one—with a short piece of the riata still attached. He felt of the end—it had been cut.
The Laramie man clinched his fists in silent fury.