der the bluffs of the Indian
shore, they rode within the reservation lines at last, with the dawn no
longer at the sabre hand, but at the bridle. Peering out through the dim
ghostly light, long miles to the south, were the Uncapapa scouts,
watching for the first sign of the coming of the column that, slipping
away from before them in the darkness of midnight, had ridden in wide
circuit around and across their front, burrowed into the earth at the
first blush of the morning sky, reappeared dripping on the left bank of
the bordering stream, the Rubicon of the reservation, and now was
swiftly bearing down upon the devoted village from a quarter utterly
unsuspected.

"Just 4.15," said Cranston, glancing at his watch as soon as it was
possible to see. "How do you feel, Davies?"

"Better than I have for a month, though tired. I told Burroughs no harm
could result. That scratch is almost entirely healed. How far ahead are
they supposed to be, captain? It'll be broad daylight, even in this deep
valley, in a quarter of an hour."

Sanders, acting as Chrome's adjutant, came riding back from the head of
column at the very moment and reined about alongside his own troop
commander. "I'd rather be here in my old place, sir, and you're in big
luck to have it, Parson. The major says he wants to capture their whole
pony herd, if it takes three troops to do it, and 'C' is to charge the
village and rout out the bucks."

It so happened that Cranston's troop was bringing up the rear of
column,--only the pack-mules and their guard being behind,--a long
distance behind at the moment, for the pace had been trot or lope for
ten miles until the command reached the shelter of the ravine.

"I was in hopes there was no village," said Cranston; "that we'd only
strike the wickyups of a war-party. Do you mean village, Sanders?"

"Thunder Hawk says he's afraid so, sir. He thinks the Uncapapas and
Minneconjous who were rounded up last fall really want to get away and
join the bulk of their tribe who are summering in Canada with Sitting
Bull. If so this was their chance, and they've got their women and
children with them."

Cranston's face seemed to grow paler in the gray gathering light.
"There's no help for it, then," he said; "but I hate that sort of thing.
How near are we?"

"Within two or three miles," Hawk says. "He and Bear and two others have
galloped out ahead. We'll know by the time we've reached that bluff
yonder." And he pointed to a