The scout arose and stealthily approached the spot where the newcomers had a bright fire blazing, around which he beheld seven people, five of whom were Sioux warriors, in all their war paint, and the other two were palefaces, a man and a woman. Stealing still closer, the scout observed that the horses had been staked, as if for the night. The Indians were preparing their supper of buffalo meat toasted on the coals, while the whites stood listlessly by, their hands bound behind them, the expression of their faces proving them to be prisoners. “They are certainly not residents on the border. I have it: they belong to that wagon train. I must warn that train of the presence of the Branded Brotherhood in this neighborhood.” The scout looked intently at the female prisoner, who was a young girl, scarcely more than seventeen, with a truly lovely face, although saddened by her captivity. Her wealth of golden hair had become loosened from its confinement, and hung in wavy masses far down her back, concealing the rude bonds that held her hands behind her. She wore a straw hat and was clad in a riding habit of neat homespun, but which was torn by the rough usage she had received at the hands of her savage captors. Her white companion was a man of perhaps twenty-five, his face bold and reckless, and with a fair amount of good looks. He was dressed in a suit of dark-gray cloth, wore cavalry boots, and dove-colored soft hat. The scout took the whole scene in carefully, and then thought: “Well, there are five against me; but what should I care for five Sioux braves? Those prisoners must be released, and I’ll bide my time and do it; so here goes.” He quietly settled himself full length upon the ground, and with the patience of an Indian awaited until the supper had been disposed of and the Indians had prepared for the night’s rest, after having securely bound the captives to a tree. One of the warriors then shouldered his rifle and moved off to act as sentinel, while his four comrades rolled themselves in their blankets and stretched out before the fire. The Indian sentinel first cautiously advanced toward the edge of the motte and took a careful survey of the moonlit prairie, after which he made a rapid circuit of the timber, his eyes glancing far and near for lurking danger. Having satisfied even his cautious self that all was quiet and safe, the Indian approached the camp fire once more, coming in a line that would lead him directly upon the hidden scout. Slowly he approached, wholly unconscious of danger until within a few feet of his foe, then his eyes fell upon the dark object in his path. Before he could draw back or utter a cry of alarm, the scout was upon him, his iron grasp upon his throat. One, two rapid knife thrusts, and the Indian sentinel was “off duty forever.” But the almost noiseless struggle had caught the quick ears of the yet wide-awake Sioux around the camp fire.