the Apaches had gone no farther any
day than the slowest half-dozen of their plunder. Captain Grover was
therefore almost justified in a firm conviction he expressed that
morning:

"Now for it, boys. We shall be among 'em before sunset."

On pushed the cavalry with enthusiasm, but at the same hour the Apaches
were also pressing forward with increasing eagerness. They were no
longer in one body. All their drove of stolen quadrupeds and their own
superfluous ponies made up a sort of rear-guard, driven and cared for by
about a dozen of the less distinguished braves, with orders to make as
good speed as possible. The remainder of the force, full of whooping and
yelling and a great hunger for glory and ponies, rode forward to find
the Nez Perces. It could not be hard to do that, with so clear an idea
as to the locality of at least several of them, but there was a surprise
ready.

They had hardly ridden an hour when the foremost warriors made the air
ring with whoops of wrath, and in a moment more the word "pale-face" was
passing from rider to rider. They had found the victim of Sile's
marksmanship, and the fact that he had not been scalped put away the
idea that he had fallen before a Nez Perce. The trail of the two horses
leading away to the left was plainly marked and could be followed, and
there was no reason for special caution in so open a country. Still, the
onward movement from that point was made in a more compact body and in
something like silence. The trail before them led in the precise
direction indicated by the brave shot by Sile, and the presence of both
Nez Perces and pale-faces in that valley was of itself a sort of enigma.
Word was left for the rear-guard to halt at the spot where the body lay
until rejoined by the main force.

The garrison at the notch was ignorant of all this, but while the
house-builders toiled at their wall with undiminished energy Long Bear
sent out several of his best braves to scout around as far as might seem
safe, and there was no danger of any surprise. There was one effect of
all this even now to be seen in the sides of that stone wall. Windows
had formed a part of the original plan, of course, but not nearly so
many shot-holes.

"You see," said Jonas to Yellow Pine, "if any hostiles should ever make
out to git inside the notch, this 'ere'd be the best kind of fort. Them
holes are all big enough to poke a muzzle through."

"We'll have a stockade, some day," said Pine; "and