“A blamed fool you are, if you do, Price. We have just got over the bunch. We have something to eat and a canoe. In the canoe we can paddle up the Big Horn nights and hide along the shore days, until we are out of the territory, where we are known. Then, if we can’t put up some sort of a yarn that will give us a start we are not as sharp as our friends have always counted us.”
The Indian shot a glance of intelligence at the pair, but said nothing.
Where the creek poured into the Big Horn a sharp turn to the right was made after the Indian had been landed, and Price and Ike began the tedious journey up the wildly picturesque river, knowing little of what it promised other than that it found its source hundreds of miles to the southwest, flowed northeasterly, and by following southward they would have a blazed trail toward settlements where their names had never been heard.
If this precious pair had known much that they later found out they would as soon have paddled their canoe over Niagara Falls as up the Big Horn River.
That night they paddled until well toward morning, when, worn and weary, they sought the bank and found shelter for the day.
An hour later red hands parted the willows and a pair of black eyes peered through at the sleeping men.
The bushes sprung back into place noiselessly and a satisfied “Ugh!” escaped the red man’s lips as he hurried away.
Late in the afternoon two large canoes came up the river and four men pulled them up beside the one which had been carefully hidden there in the morning. The occupants of the last canoes were Buffalo Bill, White-man-runs-him, Hickok, and Skibo.
The Indian took the lead and a moment later the fugitives were aroused to find themselves once more prisoners. They were disarmed, securely bound, and loaded, one in each canoe, and the long run down the Big Horn begun.
The remainder of Buffalo Bill’s party, with all the horses, had headed back to the Yellowstone, where the scout hoped to join them in the next few days. His plans were to run down the Big Horn to the junction of the Yellowstone, where he had information that a detachment of U. S. Cavalry, on a scouting expedition, were encamped. If he was lucky enough to find them there he would turn over his prisoners to them and then pull up the Yellowstone to join his pards. He hoped, too, to receive orders in possession of the cavalry officers from headquarters, and to forward his report of Sitting Bull’s answer.