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"Halt!" Ted Strong had stopped his pony, and with his hand shading his eyes, was looking steadily to the front.
"What is it?" asked Ben, riding to his side.
"Smoke over the top of that hill right in front of us."
Ted did not take his eyes from the spot.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "The bunch of Indians who chased me have taken a short cut and beaten us in. I saw a band of Indians cross in front of us, and one pony carried double."
"Then we have caught up with them."
"I think so. Hold the boys here, I'm going forward to scout. When I signal, come forward as fast as you can ride."
CHAPTER IX.
A BATTLE OF QUIRTS.
Ted turned Bingo over to one of the boys to care for, and crept forward stealthily toward the hill behind which he had seen a thin thread of blue smoke rising in the still air.
No one but an Indian or a trained scout would build so small a fire. A tenderfoot would have made one that roared and sent a vast cloud of smoke toward the sky to attract any enemy that might be in the vicinity.
But an Indian builds his fire in a s.p.a.ce not much larger than the hollow of his two hands, and manages to send up smoke that only a trained eye could detect, and at the same time have heat enough with which to warm himself and cook his food, with as little fuel as possible.
As he went forward, Ted was surprised that he came upon no sign of a camp guard.
The Indians evidently thought that the boys would not have the courage to follow them into their own country, and had grown careless.
So much the better. It would give him a chance to learn how they were situated before making an attack.
He crept on his hands and knees to the ridge of the hill, and, removing his hat, peered over the edge.
Below in a small valley he saw about fifty Indians, who, from their dress and their manner of painting their faces, he knew to be of various tribes.
He easily recognized in the band several Blackfeet, six or seven Crows, some Sioux, who had come far north, and to his astonishment a few Southern Indians, such as Caddos, Cheyennes, and Comanches.
This alone was enough to convince him that the Indians were outlaws and renegades, and that they were plunderers and thieves, as well; probably murderers hiding out from the United States troops.
In the circle about the fire he soon discovered the young fellow whose pony he had shot beside the frozen stream.
The young Indian, for he did not appear much older than Ted himself, was holding forth to a number of other Indians.
Probably he was boasting of his pursuit of the white boy, and the unfortunate mishap that brought down his pony and prevented him from bringing a white captive into camp.
Not far away from this group Ted observed a man dressed in Indian garb, who yet did not act like the other Indians. An Indian has a peculiar, slouching walk, while this man strode about with the smarter, quicker, springier tread of a white man.
Presently the supposed Indian drew from his belt a pouch of tobacco and some cigarette papers, and proceeded to roll a cigarette.
Northern Indians do not roll cigarettes; they smoke pipes. It is only the Indians of the Southwest who take their solace from tobacco through the little homemade paper tubes.
"That's a fellow who has been a cow-puncher," said Ted. "He's a white man disguised as an Indian. Probably one of the Whipple gang. I've got my opinion of a white man who will play Indian, and live with the dirty scoundrels," said Ted to himself, with disgust.
He had seen all that was necessary, and had laid his plan of attack in his mind.
Creeping down the hill, he threw his hand in the air as a signal for the boys to come to him, also signaling for silence.
In a few minutes they were by his side, and, while one of the fellows held Bingo safely, Ted sprang into the saddle.
"Now, fellows, we're going to ride around the end of this hill and plump into the Indian camp. The snow will deaden the hoofbeats of the ponies, but keep as still as possible. We'll surprise them, and probably be able to settle the whole thing without firing a shot. But don't bet on it, and keep your hands on your guns, but don't fire until they make the first crack, then rush them and drive them into the hills, and bring down all you can."
With this advice they rode forward by twos, Ted and Ben in the lead.
It did not take long to round the hill, and then, as suddenly as if they had opened a door and stepped into a room, they were in the midst of the Indians.
No such surprising and sudden attack was ever made. The Indians stood as if they were carved of wood as the boys rode up to them, staring open-mouthed.
Only one of them made a break--the young Indian whom Ted had dismounted.
For several moments not a word was said.
Ted saw instantly that the broncho boys had all the best of it, and that the Indians had been taken completely by surprise, for not one of them was armed. Their rifles and guns were either still on their saddles, and the ponies were standing some distance away, or they were stacked beside a ledge of rock twenty or more feet from the fire, where most of them were congregated.
The young fellow whom Ted had foiled stared for a moment with a look of contempt and dislike.
Suddenly he made a rush to where the guns were standing.
"Stop!" Ted's voice rang out sharply. But the youth continued to run.
"Stop, or I'll kill you!" shouted Ted again.
Then an old Indian cried out something, in the tongue of the Blackfeet, and the young fellow halted suddenly and came walking back with a sickly look on his face.
The old Indian who had stopped the youth now stepped a little ways forward, and, holding up his hands in a peace sign, began to talk.
"You are my brothers," he said, "and Flying Sun, the medicine man, welcomes you to our camp."
Ted held up his hands in a sign of peace also, but said nothing.
"He's a darned old hypocrite," said Ben, in an aside to Ted. "He has murder in those little red eyes of his, if ever a man had."
"I'm on to him," said Ted. "Keep your eyes on that bunch, and give it to them if they start anything treacherous."
"My white brothers come with peace for their red brothers. Join us at the fire. Warm yourselves; eat of our meat."
"We are willing to be brothers," said Ted. "But one brother does not steal the ponies from the corral of the other."