The chief’s horse, a splendid-looking iron-gray, fed near by, and, serving as a resting place for his arm was a Mexican saddle, with a belt, containing two revolvers and a bowie knife, which Captain Ricardo kept near at hand. The persons immediately surrounding the chief consisted of the negro cook, a cunning-faced, wiry fellow, black as a coal, who never, sleeping or waking, went without his revolver and knife, which he kept in a large leather belt around his waist. It was said the negro, whom his master called Buttermilk--as a contrast to his color--knew more of the chief’s life than did any one else; but, if so, he was never known to betray that knowledge. Then there was an Indian scout, a powerful and evil-looking Sioux, who had betrayed his own people and then sought refuge in the outlaw band, and, thoroughly knowing the whole country, Captain Ricardo found him an able ally. There were also two others, both white men; one a square-framed, brutal-faced man of forty-five, whom the chief had made his second in command, and the other a renegade trapper and hunter, who, having robbed his comrades, a few years before, had sought the band for protection. Turning to his officer, who was impatiently watching the rather lazy preparations of the negro, Buttermilk, Captain Ricardo remarked, in a voice strangely soft and pleasant for one who led his wild life: “I see no reason why the train should not fall easily into our hands, for they must cross the river at a point near here.” “Yes, chief; but if we wait for them to come up here the troop will have rejoined them, and now, you know, the Injun here says Captain la Clyde and his troopers are off on a scout and the train has only its own men to guard it.” This was the answer of the lieutenant, who answered to the name of Red Roark, both on account of his red hair and beard and his bloody deeds, for at heart he was a perfect brute. “The chief’s right,” said the renegade trapper. “You hear me talk, Red Roark. If we waits for them fellers here they’ll come onsuspectinglike, right onto our trap; but ef we goes out on the prairie to fight ’em, then we’ll get some hard knocks and no pay. You see, I’s been in thar train, as I told the chief, and I knows what I’s talkin’ about.” The trapper was squatted down on the ground near the chief, who replied: “You really went into their train, Long Dave?” “You bet! I just tole ’em I was a hunter as was going to the forts, and I tell you they has just got a ticklish-lookin’ set of fellers to tackle. They axed me ’bout you, chief, and ef I thought they’d run across you, and, of course, I tole ’em no, and they said ef they did you’d have to git up early to catch them napping.” “How many fighting men are there, Long Dave?”