Bout them tents?" said Rube later on.

"They're the troops. The postmaster told me they were comin' hard."

"Kind o' handy."

It was very dark. The moon had not yet risen. Presently Seth fetched a
chair. The older man watched him seat himself a little wearily.

"Hurt some?" he said.

"Jest a notion," Seth replied in his briefest manner.

"Say, you got around jest in time."

"Yup. Wanaha put me wise after I left here, so I came that aways. Say,
this is jest the beginnin'."

"You think----"

"Ther's more comin'. Guess the troops 'll check it some. But--say, this
feller's worse'n his father. Guess he's jest feelin' his feet. An' he's
gettin' all the Pine Ridge lot with him--I located that as I came along."

They talked on for some time longer, in their slow, short way discussing
their plans. The one topic they did not discuss was Rosebud. They tacitly
ignored her share in the evening's work like men who knew that certain
blame must attach to her and refused to bestow it.

The night dragged slowly on. Rube wanted Seth to go in and rest, but Seth
sat in his chair with dogged persistence. So they shared the vigil.

Rube, by way of variation, occasionally visited the stables to see to the
horses. And all the time the dog was out scouting with an almost human
intelligence. After once being dispatched he did not appear again. Seth
had brought him up to this Indian scouting, and the beast's natural
animosity to the Indians made him a perfect guard.

The moon rose at midnight. There was no sign of disturbance on the
Reservation. All was quiet and still. But then these men knew that the
critical time had not yet arrived. Dawn would be the danger. And by dawn
they both hoped that something might result from Charlie Rankin's
journey.

Rube was sitting in a chair at Seth's side. The clock in the kitchen had
just cuckooed three times. The old man's eyes were heavy with sleep, but
he was still wide awake. Neither had spoken for some time. Suddenly Seth's
right hand gripped the old man's arm.

"Listen!"

There was a faint, uneasy whine far out on the prairie. Then Seth's
straining ears caught the sound of horses galloping. Rube sprang to his
feet, and his hands went to the guns at his waist. But Seth checked him.

"Easy," he said. "Guess it ain't that. General only whined. He mostly
snarls wicked for Injuns."

They listened again. And soon it became apparent that those approaching
were coming out of the north.

"C