Two Knives probably had some such idea in his head, for his next orders, when carried out, left Bill and his two mates firmly bound to separate trees, so that no braves need be compelled to waste their precious time as "guards" over them.
The fate of the three prisoners was a matter to be thought over. To-la-go-to-de was by no means sure he had no further use for them. He could wait until his braves should return from the examination he had ordered of the plain below the valley. It was less than an hour before they came back, and in a remarkable hurry, with the news of the approach of the main body of the pale-faces.
Old Two Knives merely nodded his head. His captives had told him the truth. But that number of white men would not be likely to attack at once so strong a band as his own. A full company of regular cavalry would hardly have been enough to scare him, for the Lipans are second to no other tribe in their fighting qualities, and these were picked and chosen warriors.
"Pale-face come. Laugh at him."
Captain Skinner and his men saw nothing to laugh at when they rode near enough to understand the condition of affairs in their camp. The blow had fallen upon them so suddenly that for some moments after they halted on the plain, half a mile away, not a man could say a word.
"It's our fault. Cap. We ort to have follered your advice."
"Ort not to have left the camp."
"You was right."
"It's too late for that kind of talk, boys. The question for us is, what had we best do. Anybody got anything to say?"
There was another moment of glum, sulky silence, and then a perfect storm of angry outcries.