the northeastward
valley, and covering its grassy surface still a good mile away. Out from
among the dingy mass came galloping half a dozen young braves, followed
by as many squaws. The former soon spread out over the billowy surface,
some following the direction of the chase, some bounding on south west
ward as though confident of finding what they sought the moment they
reached the nearest ridge; some riding straight to the point where lay
the carcasses of the earliest victims of the hunt. Here in full view of
the soldiery, but vouchsafing them no glance nor greeting whatever, two
young warriors reined in their lively ponies and disdainfully turned
their backs upon the spectators on the divide, while the squaws, with
shrill laugh and chatter, rolled from their saddles and began the
drudgery of their lot--skinning and cutting up the buffalos slaughtered
by their lords.

"Don't you see," sneered Burleigh, "it's nothing but a village out for a
hunt--nothing in God's world to get stampeded about. We've had all this
show of warlike preparation for nothing." But he turned away again as he
caught the steady look in the engineer's blue eyes, and shouted to his
more appreciative friend, the aide-de-camp: "Well, pardner, haven't we
fooled away enough time here, or have we got to wait the pleasure of
people that never saw Indians before?"

Dean flushed crimson at the taunt. He well knew for whom it was meant.
He was indignant enough by this time to speak for himself, but the
aide-de-camp saved him the trouble.

"I requested Mr. Dean to halt a few moments, Burleigh. It is necessary I
should know what band this is, and how many are out."

"Well, be quick about it," snapped the quartermaster, "I want to get to
Reno before midnight, and at this rate we won't make it in a week."

A sergeant who could speak a little Sioux came riding back to the camp,
a grin on his sun-blistered face. "Well, sergeant, what'd he say?" asked
the staff officer.

"He said would I plaze to go to hell, sorr," was the prompt response.

"Won't he tell who they are?"

"He won't, sorr. He says we know widout askin', which is thrue, sorr.
They're Ogallallas to a man, barrin' the squaws and pappooses, wid ould
Red Cloud himself."

"How'd you find out if they wouldn't talk?" asked the staff officer
impatiently.

"'Twas the bucks wouldn't talk--except in swear wurruds. I wasted no
time on them, sorr. I gave the first squaw the last hardtack in me
saddl