their march, as they saw their
white leader mount, and the young Texan also get his horse. The Black
Hawk seemed uneasy that his master was not at hand, and the Texan was
obliged to tie him by the side of the horse ridden by Addie Neidic
before he would be quiet.

"It is strange that Mr. Pond does not wake with all this noise," said
the Texan, as he rode off with Persimmon Bill. "But as I told you, he is
the soundest sleeper I ever traveled with."

The Indians now filed away out of the valley as silently as they entered
it, for, knowing the close vicinity of the other camp, they were aware
how necessary it was to be cautious.

And now Addie Neidic stood alone, while the morning star rose higher and
higher, gazing at what she supposed was the sleeping man on the knoll.

The moon had got so far around that she could see his hat, the rifle
against the tree, and the outlines of his form, as she believed.

"I will move up and secure his rifle," she thought, after the band had
been gone some time. "He might wake; and in his first alarm use it
foolishly."

So she moved with a noiseless step within reach of the gun, and the next
moment it was in her possession. Then she looked down, to see if he
showed signs of waking. To her surprise, she saw no motions of a
breathing form under the blanket. A closer look told her that if a form
had been beneath the blanket, or a head under that hat, it was gone.
And, feeling with her hand under the blanket, she, found it cold; no
warm living form had been there for hours.

"He has been alarmed, seen us, and crept away--perhaps is hiding in
terror in the brush," she muttered.

She did not even then realize that he might have fled away to alarm the
other camp. She did not even understand several shrill yells, which
reached her ear from over the hill. She had not been with the Sioux long
enough to know their cries. These yells were the signal cries of scouts
sent in, who had found a deserted camp. She only wondered, after hearing
the yells, that she did not hear firing--the sounds of battle raging.

While she yet wondered, day dawned, finding her standing there by the
empty blanket of Willie Pond, holding his rifle, and looking up the hill
to see if he would not creep out, now that light had come and the
Indians had gone.

A shrill neigh from the black horse called her attention toward the
animal, and she saw the Texan riding into the valley on a keen run.

"Where is Bill?" she aske