oops to keep them blazing through the long
night watches to create the impression among the lurking Sioux that the
whole force was still there, guarding the big village it had captured in
the early afternoon, and then, in silence, the troopers had saddled and
jogged away into the heart of the hills, close on the heels of their
guides.

There had been little time to look over the captures. The main interest
of both officers and men, of course, centred in Mr. Hay, who was found
in one of the tepees, prostrate from illness and half frantic from fever
and strong mental excitement. He had later tidings from Frayne, it
seems, than had his rescuers. He could assure them of the health and
safety of their wives and little ones, but would not tell them what was
amiss in his own household. One significant question he asked: Did any
of them know this new Major Flint? No? Well, God help Flint, if ever he,
Hay, got hold of him.

"He's delirious," whispered Webb, and rode away in that conviction,
leaving him to Ray and Billings.

Three miles out, on the tortuous trail of the pursued, the column halted
and dismounted among the pines. Then there was brief conference, and the
word "Mount" was whispered along the Beecher squadron, while Blake's men
stood fast. With a parting clasp of the hand Webb and "Legs" had
returned to the head of their respective commands, "Legs" and his
fellows to follow steadily the Indian trail through the twisting ravines
of the foothills; Webb to make an all-night forced march, in wide
_detour_ and determined effort, to head off the escaping warriors before
they could reach the rocky fastnesses back of Bear Cliff. Webb's chief
scout "Bat," chosen by General Crook himself, had been a captive among
the Sioux through long years of his boyhood, and knew the Big Horn
range as Webb did the banks of the Wabash. "They can stand off a
thousand soldiers," said the guide, "if once they get into the rocks.
They'd have gone there first off only there was no water. Now there's
plenty snow."

So Blake's instructions were to follow them without pushing, to let them
feel they were being pursued, yet by no means to hasten them, and, if
the general's favorite scout proved to be all he promised as guide and
pathfinder, Webb might reasonably hope by dint of hard night riding, to
be first at the tryst at break of day. Then they would have the
retreating Sioux, hampered by their few wounded and certain prisoners
whom they prized