own a little lower and crept very slowly toward the
point from which the stamping of hoofs proceeded. When he had
gone about a dozen yards he heard another stamping of hoofs to
his right and then a faint whinny. This encouraged him. It
showed him that the ponies were tethered in groups, and the group
toward which he was going might be without a guard. He continued
his progress another dozen yards, and then lay flat upon the
plain. He had seen two vague forms in the darkness, and he
wished to make himself a blur with the earth. They were warriors
passing from one camp fire to another, and Dick saw them plainly,
tall men with blankets folded about them like togas, long hair in
which eagle feathers were braided after the Sioux style, and
strong aquiline features. They looked like chiefs, men of
courage, dignity, and mind, and Dick contrasted them with the
ruffians of the wagon train. The contrast was not favorable to
the white faces that he remembered so well.

But the boy saw nothing of mercy or pity in these red
countenances. Bold and able they might be, but it was no part of
theirs to spare their enemies. He fairly crowded himself against
the earth, but they went on, absorbed in their own talk, and he
was not seen. He raised up again and began to crawl. The group
of ponies came into view, and he saw with delight that they had
no watchman. A half dozen in number and well hobbled, they
cropped the buffalo grass. They were bare of back, but they wore
their Indian bridles, which hung from their heads.

Dick knew a good deal about horses, and he was aware that the
approach would be critical. The Indian ponies might take alarm
or they might not, but the venture must be made. He did not
believe that he could get beyond the ring of the Sioux fires
without being discovered, and only a dash was left.

Dick marked the pony nearest to him. It seemed a strong animal,
somewhat larger than the others, and, pulling up a handful of
bunch grass, he approached it, whistling very softly. He held
the grass in his left hand and his hunting knife in the right,
his rifle being fastened to his back. The pony raised his head,
looked at him in a friendly manner, then seemed to change his
mind and backed away. But Dick came on, still holding out the
grass and emitting that soft, almost inaudible whistle. The pony
stopped and wavered between belief and suspicion. Dick was not
more than a dozen feet away now, and he began