The marks of their horses' hoofs cutting sharply into the soil, told accurately the fugitives' rate of progress, and the pursuers swept forward with caution, anxious to spare their mounts and to keep out of vision themselves until nightfall. Their success depended largely on surprise, and the confidence of those ahead that they were unpursued. Wasson expressed the situation exactly, as the four halted a moment at an unexpectedly-discovered water-hole.
"I 'd think this yere plain trail was some Injun trick, boys, if I did n't know the reason fur it. 'T ain't Injun nature, but thar 's a white man ahead o' that outfit, an' he 's cock-sure that nobody 's chasin' him yet. He 's figurin' on two or three days' get-a-way, and so don't care a tinker's dam 'bout these yere marks. Once in the sand, an' thar won't be no trail anyhow. It's some kintry out thar, an' it would be like huntin' a needle in a haystack to try an' find them fellars after ter-night. This is my idea—we'll just mosey along slow, savin' the hosses an' keeping back out o' sight till dark. Them fellars ain't many hours ahead, an' are likely ter make camp furst part o' ther night anyhow. They 'll feel safe onct hid in them sand-hills, an' if they don't git no sight of us, most likely they won't even post no guard. Thet 's when we want ter dig in the spurs. Ain't that about the right program, Sergeant?"
Burning with impatience as Hamlin was, fearful that every additional moment of delay might increase the girl's danger, he was yet soldier and plainsman enough to realize the wisdom of the old scout. There were at least four men in the party pursued, two of them Indian warriors, the two whites, desperate characters. Without doubt they would put up a fierce fight, or, if warned in time, could easily scatter and disappear.
"Of course you are right, Sam," he replied promptly. "Only I am so afraid of what may happen to Miss Molly."
"Forget it. Thar's nuthin' goin' ter happen to her while the bunch is on the move. If that outfit was all Injun, or all white, maybe thar might. But the way it is they'll never agree on nuthin', 'cept how to git away. 'T ain't likely they ever meant ter kill the Major, 'er take the girl erlong. Them things just naturally happened, an' now they 're scared stiff. It 'll take a day er two for 'em to make up their minds what to do."
"What do you imagine they will decide, Sam?"
"Wall, thet 's all guesswork. But I reckon I know what I 'd do if I was in thet sort o' fix an' bein' chased fer murder an' robbery. I 'd take the easy way; make fer the nearest Injun village, an' leave the girl thar."
"You mean Black Kettle's camp?"
"I reckon; he 's down thar on the Canadian somewhar. You kin bet those fellars know whar, an' thet's whut they 're aimin' for, unless this yere Dupont has some hidin' out scheme of his own. Whar did you say he ranched?"
"Buffalo Creek."