Chauncy came out, and the door was shut and barred again.
“Come, let us hurry away from here,” said he.
“Hold on, you want weapons. I noticed that Red Pine had a fine rifle, and a revolver. Get them from him,” said Barry.
Chauncy picked up the rifle, and found to his delight that it was his own, as were also all the other things the Indian carried.
He quickly transferred them to his own person, and then announced himself ready. Barry led him to the medicine-lodge in which he had taken up his quarters, and where his horse now was, and then left him. He soon came back, leading one of the best horses that was in the corral. He was an excellent judge of horse-flesh, and he knew what kind of a steed to pick out.
There were several saddles and bridles in the medicine-lodge, which had doubtless been taken from hunters and emigrants.
Taking his pick of these, Chauncy put them on his steed, and then the two went through the village, making as little noise as possible and leading their horses behind them.
When they got to the clump of trees, the circus-rider changed his clothes, and with his weapons in his belt and hand, and the bundle on his horse, he led the way toward the river.
He knew from the direction the two whites had taken when they left the village where they would strike the river, and he headed for that point. The moon soon came out, and when the two came up to the tree on the bank of the river, the circus-rider gave a loud, solemn hoot.
It was answered by the cry of the loon, and soon two horsemen came toward them.