In an
instant they were all mounted.
"They hear the crack of the bull-whip," said Woods.
He was right. Without another glance in our direction the Sioux
galloped away toward the foot-hills, and as they disappeared we heard
the welcome snap of the long bull-whip, and saw the first of our wagons
coming up the trail. In that day, however, the plainsman was delivered
out of one peril only to be plunged into another. His days seldom
dragged for want of excitement.
When we got to Leavenworth, Simpson sent three of us ahead with the
train-book record of the men's time, so that their money would be ready
for them when they arrived at Leavenworth.
Our boss's admonition to ride only at night and to lie under cover in
daytime was hardly needed. We cared for no more Indian adventures just
then.
We made fairly good progress till we got to the Little Blue, in
Colorado. It was an uncomfortable journey, finding our way by the stars
at night and lying all day in such shelters as were to be found. But
the inconvenience of it was far preferable to being made targets for
Indian arrows.
We were sheltered one night from one of the fearful prairie blizzards
that make fall and winter terrible. We had found a gulley washed out by
an autumn storm, and it afforded a little protection against the wind.
Looking down the ravine I saw ponies moving.
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