As he thus waited, he shaped the plan that had come to his fertile mind—a plan that promised aid to the imperiled prisoners.
Within less than an hour the medicine man came in sight, advancing down the trail that here descended from the higher mountains.
Spotted Deer, though bound and gagged, struggled and gurgled, in an effort to warn the medicine man of the danger he was in, and he threw himself about in such a manner, in spite of the scout’s warnings to him to desist, that he attracted the medicine man’s attention. Yet the result of his strenuous efforts was not what he had hoped.
The medicine man turned toward the bushes where he beheld the commotion, stepping with Indian lightness of foot, and when he parted the bushes to look in, he found himself looking into the deadly tube of a revolver, with the dreaded Long Hair behind it threatening him.
“Do not try to turn!” the scout commanded in Blackfoot; “for, if you do, I shall shoot you.”
The medicine man surrendered without a word, seeing that death would be the result if he refused. Then he discovered the bound form of Spotted Deer.
Buffalo Bill kept him covered with the revolver, and with Indian stoicism the medicine man sat down.
“Now, your knife!” commanded the scout.
The Blackfoot produced the weapon and placed it on the ground. His hatchet was the only other weapon he possessed, and that he also surrendered.
Then the scout searched him.