The two boys wheeled their ponies about and sped back for the camp. They entered the camp and quickly gathering their possessions together they put them aboard the pack horse and climbing upon their own ponies they started swiftly southward. They rode steadily for about an hour, and then Running Dog pulled up his pony.
“Wait, White Cloud, we are doing just what they wish us to do. We are running and we have a long hard trip to make. Besides, that signal was evidently for a band to the south of our camp. If we are not careful we shall find that we have ridden right into a trap. Let us plan our trip more carefully. First we must stay away from the main trails. We must take to the foothills and work our way south that way. It will take us longer, but there will be less chance of being ambushed, I believe, if we stay away from the well-used main trails. The Kiowas are a very tricky people and we would be in a trap before we knew it. They will be sure to be covering the water holes for they know we must have water. As far as I know there are but three between here and our village. How much water do you have in your pouch?”
“My pouch is about empty, Running Dog, but surely we will find water elsewhere than at the three water holes.”
“There is a good chance that we will, but I do not want to count on it. After all, our hunters are the ones that are familiar with this land. We are strangers here and not acquainted with the good and bad points. Come, our horses have rested. We will leave the main trail now and continue cross country. It is going to be a hard journey, White Cloud, but we are racing death.”
With that the two boys steered their ponies from the main trail and began to travel in a southeasterly direction. Here there was no clear trail, and they had only the uncanny sense of a homing pigeon to guide them. They pushed their ponies easily for the first couple of hours, but finally the steady pace began to tell and they had to come to a stop.
They had entered a green valley and as they rode they noticed an abundance of game. “Too bad that we are in a race,” remarked White Cloud, “for here is a paradise of game.” Running Dog said nothing, and the two boys brought their ponies to a stop. They stepped from their ponies and rested, allowing the horses to crop grass.
As they lay there, White Cloud glanced back in the direction from which they had come. Again he could see the ominous puffs of smoke rising from behind the small hills that separated them from the main band of Kiowas.
After resting a short while and allowing their ponies to blow, they mounted again and continued their gallop toward their village and security. Night was approaching now and the boys were glad for they knew that they could travel much more swiftly at night because it would be cooler. Besides, they knew that the Kiowas would not attack unless they were sure they could kill both the boys.
They rode more swiftly now, and suddenly Running Dog’s pony whinnied aloud and swerved to one side. Running Dog tried to pull him back but the pony galloped off in a slightly different direction from the one in which they had been traveling. Then Running Dog understood why, for suddenly he heard the hoofs of his horse splashing. The horse had found water. What a break! The boys threw themselves from their horses and lay flat in the water. Suddenly Running Dog lifted himself from the water and grasping White Cloud’s arm he said:
“We are foolish. Suppose they are watching this water hole. We sit here like two fat frogs waiting for the hook. Come quickly, we must leave this place.” The two boys mounted once again and rode on. Suddenly the pack horse stumbled and fell. The boys stopped their ponies and returned to the side of the pack horse. “He will be all right,” said White Cloud, “he is just winded.”