favor. The
Cheyennes had learned with huge delight that the strange soldiers had
marched off westward, apparently abandoning that watch near the
reservations, and leaving it safe for them to scurry forth with bag and
baggage, with women and children, on their rush for freedom--and Sitting
Bull.

Sighting this little detachment of soldiers venturing on down the valley
instead of hurrying back, they had signalled all over the country
calling in war-parties to their aid, and formulated their scheme to
ambuscade and "corral" it at the narrows of the valley; but Ray's
vigilance and plainscraft had defeated that scheme; though they had good
chances yet, if they only knew where the regiment had gone. Late the
previous evening it had disappeared behind a prominent headland far up a
valley farther to the south, and probably had there gone into camp for
the night. Late _this_ night they get the news that gives rise to vast
speculation and some genuine anxiety. Runners come in who say that
instead of camping there, the White Chief rode all night; turned
northward soon as it was dark; crossed this very valley far above them
at dawn, and where he went from there they couldn't say. They dare not
follow. Was it possible the White Chief was going to beat them at their
own tactics? Could it be that he was going to head them off? Attack them
in the early morning far to the northwest? Lying on the ground, the
officers heard many hoof-beats dying away in the distance, and wondered
what it might mean. It meant that some fifty of their foemen had
galloped away to look for their families and the rest of the band, and
warn them of the new danger. It was more than certain that no help could
come to the soldiers in the valley; but they must guard their people
against this mysterious move. At daybreak those left behind would resume
the effort to dislodge the soldiers, and then there would be a revel.

And daybreak comes all too soon. Far to the east the stars are paling,
and a grayish veil rises slowly from the horizon. One by one the
night-lamps in the heavens lose their sparkle and radiance, as the
filament of the dawn shrouds and stifles them. Far down the valley
tumbling outlines of ridge and height are carved out in sharper relief
against the lightening sky. There is a stir in the leaves o'erhead and
the soft rustle of the morning breeze. Presently the pallid veil at the
east takes on a purplish blush, that is changing every instant to a
r