Then from above them came a guttural query in a shout to those beating the bush.
“He asked what the fuss was about,” whispered the scout.
The pards could make out seven men on horseback, for the other five were grouped about two of them, and it could be seen that both the latter wore hats instead of feathers.
Then one of the men spoke to the other in good English:
“It looks like our finish, Ike, down in that gang of red cutthroats.”
“It is Price!” whispered the scout.
“An’ Bloody Ike,” added the trapper.