Backing away a few steps, they turned off around the butt of our haystack, and made for the crossing of the ravine just above our dugouts. Here they examined the ground closely, evidently looking for fresh tracks of our wagon and mules to see which way they had gone.
As soon as they crossed the ravine I returned to my station on the dirt roof of our dugout where I could watch their movements. When they reached the higher ground and our Fort Larned trail the fresh tracks of the team gave them their clew. Pointing to the fresh signs, Satank's eyes followed the course of the trail until he caught sight of the wagon in the distance, just as it seemed to reach the crest of the high prairie about three miles away. With an excited exclamation he pointed out his discovery to his companion, and then mounting rode off at a lively gait.
I conjectured that Satank would either pursue the wagon or bring his men to attack my position—probably both. In either case it was of the utmost importance that I warn my comrades, which now seemed an impossibility; and while fretting at my helplessness I looked down at Found, at my feet, and the inspiration came.
"Good!" I shouted, "I'll send the dog!"
Rushing down into the cabin I seized a piece of paper and hastily wrote on it:
Look out for Satank and his gang! They are after you! I am O. K., so far.
Peck.
Quickly tying this slip to Found's collar and taking down an old cap of Tom's from which to give the dog the scent, I hurried back on top of the dugout. I spoke to the dog and then pointed to the covered wagon, still plainly visible, and for fear he did not see it I lifted him up in my arms, pointed again to the far-off wagon, repeating the names, "Tom—Jack!"
The intelligent creature looked up into my face, as I set him down, and then at the wagon, barked and wagged his tail vigorously as though he thought he understood me. I then pointed again to the wagon, held Tom's old cap to his nose, and said, "Go to Tom," motioning with my hand toward the wagon.
"Go to Tom."