."

"Then his village will lie in beyond the big bend there," and Hamlin
rose in his stirrups, shading his eyes. "The herders have n't driven
them far since the storm broke. You don't see any smoke, do you?"

Hughes shook his head.

"You would n't likely see none against thet gray sky; them ponies is
two er maybe three miles off, an' ther camp is likely a mile er so
further. Thar 's a big bend thar, as I remember; a sort o' level spot
with bluff all 'round, 'cept on the side o' ther river. We hed a
cattle corral thar onc't, durin' a round-up. Most likely that's whar
they are."

"And Le Fevre is heading straight for the spot. Well, he 'll have to
come out on this bench first."

"Yep, there sure ain't no valleys lying between. How many o' these
yere gulch openings have we got past already?"

"Three; there 's the fourth just ahead. That's the one they were
trailing through. No doubt about that, is there?"

"Not 'less them Injuns took to the ridge. They wus sure in the fourth
valley when we fust sighted the outfit back thar. Whatcher goin' ter
do, Sergeant? Jump 'em a hoss-back, an' just pump lead?"

Hamlin had thought this over as he rode and already had planned his
attack. The opening to the valley, along which Le Fevre's exhausted
party were slowly advancing toward them, seemed favorable--it was
narrow and badly choked with snow. It offered an ideal place for a
surprise and was far enough away from the Indian encampment--if the
latter was situated as Hughes believed, in the great bend above--so
that no echo of shots would carry that distance, even through the crisp
atmosphere. There were two things the Sergeant had determined to
accomplish if possible--the rescue of Miss Molly uninjured, and the
capture of Le Fevre. No matter how deeply he despised the man he could
not afford to have him killed. So far as the Indians were concerned
there would be no mercy shown, for if either one escaped he would carry
the news to the village. With all this in his mind the Sergeant swung
out of the saddle, dropping the rein to the ground, confident that the
tired cow-pony would remain quiet. His belt was buckled outside the
army overcoat, and he drew his revolver, tested it, and slipped it back
loosely into the holster. Then he pulled out the rifle from under the
flap of the saddle, grimly handling it in his gloved fingers. Hughes,
his head sunk into his fur collar, his hot breath steaming in the cold
atmos