e men off their guard.

Buddy looked often over his shoulder while he drove the horses down the
creek. It seemed stranger than luck, that he had been compelled to ride
so far on this particular morning; as if mother's steadfast faith in
prayer and the guardianship of angels was justified by actual facts.
Still, Buddy was too hard-headed to assume easily that angels had driven
the horses up the creek so that he would have to ride up there and
discover the Indian fires. If angels could do that, why hadn't they
stopped Colorou from going on the warpath? It would have been simpler,
in Buddy's opinion.

He did not mention the angel problem to his father, however. Bob Birnie
was eating breakfast with his men when Buddy rode up to the cabin and
told the news. The boys did not say anything much, but they may have
taken bigger bites by way of filling their stomachs in less time than
usual.

"I'll go see for myself," said Bob Birnie. "You boys saddle up and
be ready to start. If it's Indians, we'll head for Laramie and drive
everything before us as we go. But the lad may be wrong." He took the
reins from Buddy, mounted, and rode away, his booted feet hanging far
below Buddy's short stirrups.

Speedily he was back, and the scowl on his face told plainly enough that
Buddy had not been mistaken.

"They're coming off the ridge already," he announced grimly. "I heard
their horses among the rocks up there. They think to come down on us at
sunrise. There'll be too many for us to hold off, I'm thinking. Get ye a
fresh horse, Buddy, and drive the horses down the creek fast as ye can."

Buddy uncoiled his rope and ran with his mouth full to do as he was
told. He did not think he was scared, exactly, but he made three throws
to get the horse he wanted, blaming the poor light for his ill luck;
and then found himself in possession of a tall, uneasy brown that Dick
Grimes had broken and sometimes rode. Buddy would have turned him loose
and caught another, but the horses had sensed the suppressed excitement
of the men and were circling and snorting in the half light of dawn; so
Buddy led out the brown, pulled the saddle from the sweaty horse that
had twice made the trip up the creek, and heaved it hastily on the
brown's back. Dick Grimes called to him, to know if he wanted any help,
and Buddy yelled, "No!"

"Here they come--damn 'em--turn the bunch loose and ride!" called Bob
Birnie as a shrill, yelling war-whoop, like the yapping of ma