"Twelve fifty-two," said the dark-eyed commander, swinging his watch
into the pocket of his hunting shirt, and sliding backward into the
stream bed. "All serene so far. Watch things on this front, Field, while
I make the rounds and see how we came out."
"All serene so far" it was! Not a man hurt. Two of the sorrels had been
hit by flying bullets and much amazed and stung thereat, but neither was
crippled. Bidding their guards to dig for water that might soon be
needed, Ray once more made his way to the northward side and rejoined
Field and Winsor.
In an almost cloudless sky of steely blue the sun had just passed the
meridian and was streaming hotly down on the stirring picture. Northward
the ridge line and the long, gradual slope seemed alive with swarms of
Indian warriors, many of them darting about in wild commotion. About the
little eminence where Stabber and the Fox had again locked horns in
violent altercation, as many as a hundred braves had gathered. About the
middle knob, from whose summit mirror flashes shot from time to time,
was still another concourse, listening, apparently, to the admonitions
of a leader but recently arrived, a chieftain mounted on an American
horse, almost black, and Ray studied the pair long and curiously through
his glasses.
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