As he made these reflections half aloud, Reginald caught their general bearing; and though he had great confidence in the sagacity of his Indian friend, still he felt a chill of disappointment at the idea that the pursuit was to be abandoned, for what appeared to him the hopeless chance of intercepting a small band of Sioux, of whose course they were ignorant, in a boundless extent of prairie like that around him. He had, however, good sense enough to conceal all traces of his disappointment, knowing that on such an expedition there can be but one leader, and that, without unanimity and discipline, failure must ensue.
War–Eagle now called one of the young Lenapé warriors to his side, and gave him brief instructions, to the effect, that he was to choose three others of the best runners of the party, and, accompanied by the mounted Indians, to start with the earliest dawn on the Dahcotah trail, which they were to follow as close as possible without discovering themselves. He then desired Reginald and Baptiste to divide the band into watches, and to sleep alternately, but not to move until he returned.
Having given these few directions, without allowing himself either food or rest after a march of so many hours, he drew his belt tighter around his loins, and started on his solitary excursion. Reginald watched the retreating figure of his friend, until it was lost in the deepening gloom, and turning to the guide, he said,—
“Baptiste, I cannot but envy War–Eagle the possession of sinews that seem unconscious of fatigue, and eyes that require no slumber! We have marched from daylight until this late hour without either rest or refreshment, and I confess I am very glad of this seat on my buffalo–robe, and this slice of dried venison, with a draught of water; War–Eagle, however, walks off into the prairie, as if he had just started fresh from repose, and Heaven only knows where or for what purpose he is going.”
“Master Reginald,” replied the guide, throwing himself lazily down by the side of his young leader; “I will not deny that War–Eagle’s sinews are strung like the bow of a Pawnee, for I have been on a trail with him before, and few could follow it so long or so true; but there has been a time,” he added, casting his eyes down on his worn and soiled leggins, “when these limbs of mine would have kept me for a week at the heels of the fleetest Dahcotah that ever crossed the country of the Stone–eaters.[43] Those days are gone, but when the game’s afoot, perhaps there may be younger men who might give out before old Baptiste yet.”
As he spoke, the eye of the guide rested with a comic grin on Monsieur Perrot, who, with a countenance somewhat rueful, was endeavouring to masticate a crude pomme de prairie[44] that one of the Delawares had given to him, with the assurance that it was “very good!”
“I believe you, Baptiste,” said Reginald, humouring the old hunter’s pardonable vanity; “I believe you, indeed, and if the Sioux offer us a long chase, as appears likely, the crack of your rifle will be heard before the foremost of our party has come to close quarters with them; but you have not answered my question relative to War–Eagle’s excursion during this dark night.”
“He is gone,” replied the guide, “to examine the ground carefully, perhaps even to approach the northern border of the Dahcotah encampment; he will then judge of the route by which these horse–stealing vagabonds are likely to return, and will choose a place for us to conceal ourselves for an attack.”
“I understand it all, Baptiste; it seems to be a bold, well–devised plan, if War–Eagle is only correct in his guess at their intentions: meanwhile let us post our sentries, and get what sleep we can, for to–morrow may be a busy day.”
They accordingly divided their party into watches, Baptiste and Perrot with one Indian taking the first, and Reginald undertaking the charge of the second. The night was gloomy, and few stars were visible through the thick clouds, by which the heavens were overspread; the men were partially sheltered by some stunted alder–bushes which grew by the side of the stream with whose waters they had cooled their thirst, and those who were not destined to the first watch soon fell asleep, lulled by the distant howling of a hungry pack of prairie–wolves.