The
mirror signals plainly told them that. Yet it was now well nigh one
o'clock and not another hostile move was made. Fox then was being held
by stronger hands. It meant that Lame Wolf had listened to reason,--and
Stabber, and would permit no fresh attack until his numbers should be so
increased that resistance would practically be vain. It meant even
more--that the Indian leader in chief command felt sure no force was
yet within helping distance of the corralled troopers. He could,
therefore, take his time.
But this was a theory Ray would not whisper to his men. He knew Webb. He
knew Webb would soon read the signs from the north and be coming to his
relief, and Ray was right. Even as he reasoned there came a message from
across the grove. Lieutenant Clayton said the Indians he had seen away
to the south were racing back. "Thank God!" was the murmured answer no
man heard. "Now, lads, be ready!" was the ringing word that roused the
little troop, like bugle call "To Arms." And even as eager faces lifted
over the low parapets to scan the distant foe, fresh signals came
flashing down from the northward ridge, fresh bands of warriors came
darting to join the martial throng about the still wrangling chieftains,
and then, all on a sudden, with mighty yelling and shrill commotion,
that savage council burst asunder, and, riding at speed, a dozen braves
went lashing away to the westward side, while with fierce brandishing of
arms and shields and much curveting and prancing of excited ponies, the
wild battle lines were formed again.
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