CHEATED OF THEIR PREY.
Literally dumb with terror, so weak that he could not rise, Pond saw
this strange cavalcade moving up toward the little lake, and looked to
the spot where the Texan had lain down to see if he had yet taken the
alarm.
To his wonder and redoubled alarm, he saw the Texan not alone, but with
a white man, dressed in buckskin, by his side, and a woman also,
apparently in friendly converse, calmly waiting the Indian advance.
Recognizing at a glance the woman as Addie Neidic, Pond realized that
the man must be no other than Persimmon Bill, and that his followers
were the blood-thirsty Sioux, whom he headed.
"Heaven help me! There is some fearful treachery here. Wild Bill and his
companions are lost if they are not warned in time. How can it be done?"
How strangely, as if by intuition, strategy, and cunning thought come to
some when environed by unlooked-for danger.
Without a moment's hesitation, Pond so arranged his blanket that if
glanced at it would appear he was yet sleeping under it, for he left his
hat on the stone where his head had been, and his rifle leaning against
the tree right over it.
Then, bare-headed, with no weapons but his pistols and knife in his
belt, he crept off up the hill-side with the silence and stealth of a
scout who had been a life-time in the business. He wondered at himself
as he began to scale the mountain-side, not daring to look back, how he
could creep up amid those fearful crags so noiselessly, and how he could
have got away unseen, when the Texan and those who were with him were
not a pistol shot away.
On, on he kept, ever seeking the shadowed spots, where no moonlight
could reveal his form, until at last he was on the very crest of the
hill. Looking down he plainly saw the camp-fires of the Black Hillers
below. They were most likely buried in slumber, and, if they had
sentinels out, his life would be endangered by a rapid approach. But of
this he seemed not to think as he hurried almost recklessly down through
thickets, over crags, and along rugged gulches.
How he got down he hardly knew, but he was down, and rushing toward the
nearest fire, when he heard a stern, short summons close in his front:
"Halt! Who comes there?"
A man, armed with rifle and pistols, stepped from the shadow of a tree,
and Pond gasped out:
"A friend. A friend come to save all your lives. There are a hundred
Indians within a mile of you, led by the desperado Persimmon Bill."
"Who are you?" was the stern inquiry.
"Wild Bill will know me. Take me to him, quick!" was the response.
"To our captain first. Come along!" said the sentinel.
The next moment Willie Pond was in the presence of Sam Chichester and
Captain Jack, telling his story.
"It looks like truth, and if it is, the quicker we get out of here the
better. If we can get fifteen or twenty miles the start we may keep it,"
said Chichester.
"He says Wild Bill knows him. Where is Bill?" cried Jack. "Ah, there he
comes."
Bill, awakened by hearing his name called, was rising, and now
approached the party.
Pond sprang forward, and addressed him hurriedly in whispered tones.
Wild Bill for an instant seemed lost in astonishment, his first
exclamation being, "Great Heaven! you here?"
But after he heard the whispered words he only added, addressing
Chichester:
"Captain, this friend of mine will not lie. We are in danger, and he has
risked his life to save us. I want a spare horse for him, and the sooner
we get from here, the better for our hair."
With as little noise as possible, the whole party were aroused, and the
danger explained. Quickly the animals were saddled, and in less than
twenty minutes the camp-ground was all deserted, though more fuel had
been purposely heaped on the fires to keep up the appearance of
occupation, if scouts should be sent to examine the camp.
"It lacks four hours yet to daylight!" said Chichester to Captain Jack,
"We'll get just that much start, for they'll make no attack until just
as day begins to break. I know the ways of them red cusses only too
well."
"You haven't much the advantage of me in that kind of knowledge, Sam.
But if that fellow was anywhere right as to their numbers, and the Sioux
are well mounted, they'll bother us yet before we get to the hills, no
matter if we do get eighteen or twenty miles the start!"
"We'll give 'em a long race and a tough tussle before they get our hair
any way!" said Chichester. "I wonder who that fellow is? Bill seems to
like him right well, for they ride as close as their horses can move
together. Bill has supplied him with a hat--he came in bare-headed, you
know."
"Yes; he must have had a terrible climb to get over to us. The only
wonder is he got away undiscovered."
"He said he left his blanket in a shape to make them think he was
sleeping under it."
"He must be an old hand to fool them so nicely."
"He doesn't look like it, He doesn't ride like a scout or a
plainsman--he sits his horse too gracefully."
"No matter; one thing is certain. Wild Bill knows him well, trusts him,
and they stick as close together as twins."
"Yes, Captain Jack, I wish you'd take the rear and make those packers
keep up. There must be no lagging. If a horse or mule fails they must be
left. I'll keep the advance going."
Thus the Black Hillers swept on at a gallop, knowing that a merciless
fate was theirs if overtaken by the Sioux.