Barlow wanted to say “Yes;” but he knew it was not then politic to do so.
“He is a fool!” he said. “His words are but wind, Red Wing, and I do not hear them.”
“Yes, he is a fool!” Red Wing agreed.
“Aye, that he is, Red Wing! I wonder that the ears of the jackass do not grow on his head. They would fit him.”
Buffalo Bill was hearing all this, for he was riding not three yards from the speakers; yet never was he suspected, for the Indian blankets and his disguise concealed him effectively.
Then the unexpected happened. A genuine bull elk whistled out in front.
It was the signal Ben Stevens had been awaiting—the whistle of a bull elk, from Buffalo Bill, and he thought this came from the scout. Thereupon he charged wildly on the flank, firing his revolvers, and yelling in his most startling fashion.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CHEYENNE STAMPEDE.
The sudden, unexpected, and astonishing demonstration of Ben Stevens had a tremendous effect. It threw the young Cheyennes into a panic.
They had been expecting pursuit by the troopers; and, though they had felt sure none had been made, or, at least, that no troopers were near, this seemed to prove that the troopers had pursued and were now charging. And a charge of United States troopers, made in that way on a hostile Indian camp in the darkness of the night, was a thing before which Indians had never been able to stand. There was always something so irresistible in its character that it seemed to sweep them off their feet like the blast of a hurricane.