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where they made a camp among the cottonwoods. Will, weary from the long ride, went to sleep as soon as dusk came, but he was awakened somewhere near the middle of the night by the hand of Boyd on his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked, sitting up and not yet wholly awake. "Quiet!" whispered Boyd. "Reach for your rifle, and then don't stir. The Sioux are out on the plain to the west, in front of us. Tom, who was on watch, heard 'em, and then he saw 'em. There's a band of at least fifty on their ponies. We think they know we're here. Likely they heard our animals moving about." The lad's heart contracted. It seemed a hideous irony of fate that, after having escaped so many dangers by their skill and courage, blind chance should bring such a great menace against them here upon the plains. He drew himself from his blankets, and propping himself upon his elbows pushed forward his repeating rifle. Then he changed his mind, put down his rifle again, and brought to his eyes the precious glasses, with which he seldom parted. He was able to see through the cottonwoods and in the moonlight the Sioux band, about a third of a mile away, gathered in a group on the crest of a swell, strong warriors, heavily painted, nearly all of them wearing splendid war bonnets. They were sitting on their ponies and two, whom Will took to be chiefs, were talking together. "What do you make out, young William?" asked the Little Giant. "A conference, I suppose." "Then they know beyond a doubt that we're here," said Boyd. "They must have heard the stamp of a horse or a mule. It's bad luck, but we've had so much of the good that we've got to look for a little of the bad. What more do you see through those glasses of yours, Will?" "Ten men from the band have gone to the right, and ten have gone to the left. All are bent low on their ponies, and they are moving slowly. Some carry lances and some rifles." "That settles it. They're sure we're here and they mean to take us. What about those who are left in the center?" "They've come a little nearer, but not much." "Waiting for the two wings to close in before they attack. That's your crafty Indian. They never waste their own lives if they can help it, nor does an Indian consider it any disgrace to run when the running is of profit. I don't know but what they're right. Can you still see the two wings, Will?" "The one on the left is hid by a swell, but the other on the right is bear
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