the two hunters left their chance companions in the canyon, rode
rapidly south, and, with their antelope haunches as trophies, reached
Casement's camp about ten o'clock.
Stanley, who was conferring with Casement, came out of the tent
greatly amazed at his scout's venturing so far on a hunt as to expose
himself and his companion to danger.
"We were safe every minute, colonel," declared Scott.
"Safe?" echoed Stanley incredulously. "No man is safe, Bob, a mile
from the track-layers. The Sioux killed and scalped one of our
engineers not ten miles from here, when we were running this very line
last winter."
"This lad," nodded Scott, "is as good a shot as I am. He brought down
the first antelope. We get along with the Sioux all right, too, don't
we, Bucks?" he demanded, appealing to his fellow-hunter. "We ate
supper with them last night," he added to mystify his listeners, "and
camped with Iron Hand."
Even General Casement stared at this and waited to hear Scott tell
Stanley the story of their night's adventure. "However, colonel,"
concluded Scott, "there is a war party of Cheyennes near here. It is a
good time to be careful."
"All right, Bob," retorted Stanley, looking at his scout keenly,
though no one could be angry at Scott long. "You set the example."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when an operator came running
down the track from the telegraph tent with a message for General
Casement. It contained word from the operator at Peace River that
section men reported a war party of Indians, crossing the railroad
near Feather Creek, had attacked an emigrant party camped there.
In an instant the whole construction camp had the news and the work
was thrown into confusion. Feather Creek was twenty miles away. Orders
flew fast. A special train was made up, and Stanley taking command,
with Casement to aid, made ready instantly to leave for the scene of
the disaster.
The men running from the grade fell into line like veteran soldiers.
Indeed, most of them had seen service in the war just closed and the
smell of powder was no novelty. Bob Scott turned the venison over to
Oliver and loaded his horse in the car with those of the cavalrymen.
Under Stanley's orders he himself rode as pilot in the cab with the
engine crew. Bucks also reported to Stanley, and within twenty minutes
the relief train carrying two hundred men was plunging down the long
hill toward Feather Creek. Heads were craned out of the car windo
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