p things" only
consisting in tossing the bones out of the way, wiping their knives on a
bunch of grass, scouring them with a plunge or two in the dry sand, they
were all ready for next meal-time.

"Your horse hears something, so does mine," said the Texan, pointing to
the animals, which suddenly stopped feeding, and with their ears pricked
forward, looked off to the east-ward.

"I can see nothing. What can alarm them!" said Pond.

"They hear the tramp of the Black Hills party, I think. Horses have far
better hearing than we have, and will feel a jar of the ground that
would not attract our attention. I want no better sentinel than my
mustang, and your Black Hawk seems to take to the watch by instinct. I
will go up on my look-out post and see if anything is in sight."

Slinging the strap of his field-glass over his shoulder, the Texan
hurriedly climbed up the tree. Seated among the top-most limbs, he
adjusted his glass and looked away to the northeast.

"There they are!" he cried.

"Who? What?" exclaimed Pond, rather nervously.

"The Black Hillers, struggling along mighty careless. Their route covers
half a mile in length; when in good marching order it should not cover a
hundred yards, with scouts in the rear, front, and on both flanks, at
twice the distance. That is the way we travel in Texas."

"Wild Bill has been a scout so long I should think he would know all
about it," said Pond.

"A heap them scouts know who travel with Uncle Sam's troop's!" said the
Texan, in a tone of contempt. "Let them ride with a gang of Texan
Rangers a few months and they'd learn something. Your troops can't move,
or stop to water, without sounding their bugles to tell the Indians
where they are. In the morning, all day, and at night, it is toot, toot
with their infernal horns, and the reds know just where to find 'em. One
of our Texan Ranger bands will travel a hundred miles and you'll not
hear noise enough to wake a coyote from them all. These Black Hillers
travel slow to-day. They're sore-headed from their spree, I reckon."

"They deserve to be. Drunkenness always punishes the drunkard. I have no
pity for them."

"Can you see any sign of them from where you stand?" asked the Texan.

Pond looked carefully off in the direction the other pointed, and
replied:

"No. They do not even raise dust."

"Then we are safe here from observation. They go too slow to make dust,
and they're moving over grass any way. It will be dark bef