“True, but woman sometimes helps the fighter,” replied the girl, not venturing to raise her eyes.
“Go,” returned Whitewing. “Time may not be foolishly wasted. The old ones and the children need thy care.”
Without a word Brighteyes turned her horse’s head towards the camp, and was about to ride humbly away when Little Tim interfered.
“Hold on, girl! I say, Whitewing, she’s not so far wrong. Many a time has woman rendered good service in warfare. She’s well mounted, and might ride back with a message or something o’ that sort. You’d better let her come.”
“She may come,” said Whitewing, and next moment he was bounding over the prairie at the full speed of his fiery steed, closely followed by Little Tim and Brighteyes.
That same night, at a late hour, a band of savage warriors entered a thicket on the slopes of one of those hills on the western prairies which form what are sometimes termed the spurs of the Rocky Mountains, though there was little sign of the great mountain range itself, which was still distant several days’ march from the spot. A group of wearied women and children, some riding, some on foot, accompanied the band. It was that which had so recently destroyed the Indian village. They had pushed on with their prisoners and booty as far and as fast as their jaded horses could go, in order to avoid pursuit—though, having slain all the fighting men, there was little chance of that, except in the case of friends coming to the rescue, which they thought improbable. Still, with the wisdom of savage warriors, they took every precaution to guard against surprise. No fire was lighted in the camp, and sentries were placed all round it to guard them during the few hours they meant to devote to much-needed repose.
While these Blackfeet were eating their supper, Whitewing and Little Tim came upon them. Fortunately the sharp and practised eyes and intellects of our two friends were on the alert. So small a matter as a slight wavering in the Blackfoot mind as to the best place for encamping produced an effect on the trail sufficient to be instantly observed.
“H’m! they’ve took it into their heads here,” said Little Tim, “that it might be advisable to camp an’ feed.”
Whitewing did not speak at once, but his reining up at the moment his friend broke silence showed that he too had observed the signs.
“It’s always the way,” remarked the trapper with a quiet chuckle as he peered earnestly at the ground which the moon enabled him to see distinctly, “if a band o’ men only mention campin’ when they’re on the march they’re sure to waver a bit an’ spoil the straight, go-ahead run o’ the trail.”