“Yes; now to push along for a few miles, as soon as those braves go back.” This the braves were not long in doing, going back at a canter and driving the ponies so recently deserted by riders before them, yet with no thought of the reason of the wild stampede. CHAPTER XXII. BLACK BILL’S LONE HAND. After going a couple of miles the black scouts returned to Sergeant Buck and his men, and they all pushed on once more, flanking the Indian village. They came to a small stream running down from the mountains, and this the chief followed up until it was seen to come out of a cañon. Here was a good camping place, so a fire was built in a crevice of the rocks, supper was gotten, and the scouts turned in for the night, well tired out after their hard day’s work. Up with the light, they were determined to press on before having breakfast, and fortunate for them it was, as they had not gone half a mile, and were just nearing the mouth of the cañon they had camped in, when Buffalo Bill, who was well in the advance, was seen to come to a sudden stop. The scouts halted, also. They saw their chief step cautiously back into a thicket, then move to the right and there stand gazing at what had attracted his attention and halted him so suddenly. After a moment he motioned them to approach. They did so, and, gaining a point of observation, beheld, not a quarter of a mile distant, a band of half a hundred Indians just going into camp. They had picketed their ponies, and were gathering wood with the intention of having breakfast there. “Those fellows are on a rapid march, and evidently belong to the village up the river, and are going home. “I judge they have come from across the Big Horn, and have struck the trail of their village and now have halted for rest and food. “Pards, we cannot get out of this cañon until they have passed on, for we can’t scale those cliffs, not being birds, and you know this stream tumbles over a precipice at the head of this trap. “Corporal, you remain here with me, and we’ll see what we can discover more about that band, while the rest of you return up the cañon and take it easy.” Buffalo Bill and Corporal Milk then remained in hiding, watching the redskins, while the remainder of the band returned up the cañon, which at its entrance was a quarter of a mile in width, but narrowed to a few feet at its end, and there the creek tumbled over a cliff into a waterfall. The Indians, the scouts saw, were some threescore in number, and their ponies stood with heads lowered as though they had been very hard ridden. Several fires had been built, and the smell of broiling venison floated up the cañon, while the redskins could be seen gathered about the fire, eating heartily. There was a thicket near that hid half of their camping place, but Buffalo Bill quickly ran his field glass over the band, and at last said: “Those redskins have been up to some deviltry, I am certain.