such had been the case, their comrades, doubtless, had carried away their bodies. That they had been slaughtered by the party of Camanchees who had been seen at daybreak was quite clear to Joe; but his burning desire to revenge the death of the white men had to be stifled, as his party was so small.
As it was impossible to bury so many bodies, the travellers resumed their journey, and left them to bleach there in the wilderness; but they rode the whole of that day almost without uttering a word.
Meanwhile the Camanchees, who had observed the trio, and had ridden away at first for the purpose of deceiving them into the belief that they had passed unobserved, doubled on their track, and took a long sweep in order to keep out of sight until they could approach under the woodland towards which the travellers now approached.
The Indians adopted this course instead of the easier method of simply pursuing so weak a party, because the plains at this part were bordered by a long stretch of forest into which the hunters could have plunged, and rendered pursuit more difficult, if not almost useless. The detour thus taken was so extensive that the shades of evening were beginning to descend before they could put their plan into execution. The forest lay about a mile to the right, like some dark mainland, of which the prairie was the sea and the clumps of wood the islands.
“There’s no lack o’ game here,” said Dick Varley, pointing to a herd of buffaloes which rose at their approach and fled away towards the wood.
“I think we’ll ha’ thunder soon,” remarked Joe. “I never feel it onnatteral hot without lookin’ out for a plump.”
“Ha! den ve better look hout for one goot tree to get b’low,” suggested Henri. “Voilà!” he added, pointing towards the plain; “dere am a lot of wild hosses.”
A troop of about thirty wild horses appeared, as he spoke, on the brow of a ridge, and advanced slowly towards them.
“Hist!” exclaimed Joe, reining up; “hold on, lads. Wild horses! My rifle to a pop-gun there’s wilder men on t’other side o’ them.”
“What mean you, Joe?” inquired Dick, riding close up.
“D’ye see the little lumps on the shoulder o’ each horse?” said Joe. “Them’s Injuns feet; an’ if we don’t want to lose our scalps we’d better make for the forest.”
Joe proved himself to be in earnest by wheeling round
