He saw the body of a woman being lowered into
a grave and the sight reminded him of what Slingerland had said. He
saw the scout searching around and he went over to him.
"Have you found the girl?" he asked.
"Not yet. I reckon the devils made off with her. They'd take her, if
she happened to be alive."
"God! I hope she's dead."
"Wal, son, so does Al Slingerland."
More searching failed to find the body of the girl. She was given up
as lost.
"I'll find out if she was took captive," said Slingerland. "This
Sioux band has been friendly with me."
"Man, they're on the war-path," rejoined Dillon.
"Wal, I've traded with them same Sioux when they was on the war-
path.... This massacre sure is awful, an' the Sioux will hev to be
extarminated. But they hev their wrongs. An' Injuns is Injuns."
Slabs of rock were laid upon the graves. Then the troopers rode
away.
Neale and Slingerland and Larry King were the last to mount. And it
was at this moment that Neale either remembered the strange, low
moan or heard it again. He reined in his horse.
"I'm going back," he called.
"What fer?" Slingerland rejoined.
Larry King wheeled his mount and trotted back to Neale.
"Red, I'm not satisfied," said Neale, and told his friend what he
thought he had heard.
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