"Smoke signals over thar," he said.
The engineers looked long, but none of them saw any smoke. They
moved on. But the scout called them back.
"Thet bunch of redskins has split on us. Fust thing we'll run into
some of them."
It was Neale's hawk eye that first sighted Indians. "Look! Look!" he
cried, in great excitement, as he pointed with shaking finger.
Down a grassy slope of a ridge Indians were riding, evidently to
head off the engineers, to get between them and the troops.
"Wal, we're in fer it now," declared the scout. "We can't get back
the way we come up."
The chief gazed coolly at the Indians and then at the long ridge
sloping away from the summit. He had been in tight places before.
"Ride!" was his order.
"Let's fight!" cried Neale.
The band of eight men were well armed and well mounted, and if
imperative, could have held off the Sioux for a time. But General
Lodge and the scout headed across a little valley and up a higher
ridge, from which they expected to sight the troops. They rode hard
and climbed fast, but it took a quarter of an hour to gain the
ridge-top. Sure enough the troops were in sight, but far away, and
the Sioux were cutting across to get in front.
It was a time for quick judgment. The scout said they could not ride
down over the ridge, and the chief decided they must follow along
it.
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