In spite of the threat she screamed the louder, and threshed about so violently that he began to fear he could not hold her on the horse.
In the midst of this there was a clatter of pony hoofs, and a mass of dark riders loomed before them as if they had leaped out of the ground. The next minute Barlow and the girl were in the midst of a body of Cheyennes.
The young Indians clutched the horses by the bridles and threw them back on their haunches. They pressed close up to the riders, and grunted when they saw that one of them was a girl and the other an officer of the army.
“What do?” the leader asked in broken English.
The cries of the girl had drawn them, though it seemed probable they would have heard Barlow in his flight any way.
Barlow was himself very much startled and frightened. However, he took courage, for the Indian who spoke to him, he discovered, was one he knew; a young buck he had once aided, and with whom since he had been more or less on terms of friendship.
“See here!” he shouted. “Is that you, Red Wing?”
Red Wing and the other young Cheyennes grunted.
“Is that you, Red Wing? I’m Barlow, you know—Lieutenant Barlow, at the fort.”
Red Wing pushed nearer. All the girl could see in the darkness was the outline of his feathered head and the glitter of his eyes.