One significant question he asked: Did any
of them know this new Major Flint? No? Well, God help Flint, if ever he,
Hay, got hold of him.
"He's delirious," whispered Webb, and rode away in that conviction,
leaving him to Ray and Billings.
Three miles out, on the tortuous trail of the pursued, the column halted
and dismounted among the pines. Then there was brief conference, and the
word "Mount" was whispered along the Beecher squadron, while Blake's men
stood fast. With a parting clasp of the hand Webb and "Legs" had
returned to the head of their respective commands, "Legs" and his
fellows to follow steadily the Indian trail through the twisting ravines
of the foothills; Webb to make an all-night forced march, in wide
_detour_ and determined effort, to head off the escaping warriors before
they could reach the rocky fastnesses back of Bear Cliff. Webb's chief
scout "Bat," chosen by General Crook himself, had been a captive among
the Sioux through long years of his boyhood, and knew the Big Horn
range as Webb did the banks of the Wabash. "They can stand off a
thousand soldiers," said the guide, "if once they get into the rocks.
They'd have gone there first off only there was no water.
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