Читать книгу Buffalo Bill, the Border King; Or, Redskin and Cowboy онлайн

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Indians often select the hour just before dawn to strike their enemies, because at that time man usually sleeps more deeply. But to make a forced march and lay an ambuscade in the middle of the night—well, this proved Oak Heart’s mastery of his tribe. Buffalo Bill suspected that the herd of deer had been frightened by something more than a single redskin—or a small scouting-party of them. He knew Oak Heart’s abilities and respected them. Rash as the scout might be at times, he never took foolish chances. To lead the rescue-party into the head of the cañon might bring it to complete ruin.

“Judd! you take the west side of that gorge, and I’ll go east,” he commanded his brother scout.

“How’ll I communicate? Signal?”

“No! If there are many of the reds they have already frightened away most of the small animals that we might imitate, and to give a bird-call would utterly ruin us. No bird will be waking up at this time o’ night—ugh!”

“Well, what then?” demanded the other.

“Never mind what you find, keep still. Meet me here—in twenty minutes if possible; not later than half an hour from now, at most.”