That which interested the pards more, at this time, was the character of country immediately surrounding them. They could follow the windings of the cañon until it ended in a precipitous wall above which lay a broad plateau. To them it looked as though by following the gorge to the end and climbing the wall of the cul-de-sac, the high land, which was heavily timbered and surrounded by peaks, might be reached with comparative ease. They wished now that they had continued up the cañon instead of leaving their horses. As they were studying the walls of the cañon through their glasses, an Indian appeared among the trees at the edge of the plateau and began a descent into the gulch. Others followed rapidly until twelve had disappeared in the depths below the scout’s line of vision. “The village is on that wooded mountain plain,” said the scout decisively, “and their horses are anchored in the cañon below. There is the seat of all the trouble in this part of the country.” CHAPTER XLIII. CAYUSE FINDS OLD ENEMIES. Little Cayuse’s trim figure sat astride the pinto Navi with all the pride of a king, as he rode out of view of the sacred mountain that afternoon. Just now Little Cayuse was executing an important commission for Pa-e-has-ka, and the boy’s native pride in positions of trust bade him carry it out with celerity. As he rode the Indian youth’s eyes constantly swept the plain, not from fear or nervousness, but from force of habit. Indeed, with Navi under him the boy felt that he had no cause to fear anything that stalked the plain, for Navi was tireless and as fleet as the wind. But Cayuse had not foreseen all the events of the afternoon. As he gazed at a single white spot on the skyline he became convinced that it was a prairie schooner. It seemed to be moving west across his line of travel. As it came nearer the young Indian could see that the wagon was drawn by four mules which were, apparently, driven by a woman. An Indian on a pony was riding in the wake of the wagon and seemed to be directing the course of this ship of the plains. The wagon halted where the travelers’ line intersected that of Little Cayuse and waited for him to come up. Cayuse believed it to be a party of white emigrants who were looking for the fort and had missed the trail while attempting to travel at night. The woman who was driving hailed the Piute as he drew near and asked: “Where is Fort Phil Kearney?” Cayuse pointed down the route he was pursuing. “Will you show us the way?” the woman asked. “Wuh,” answered the Piute, although he did not care to delay his own trip by bothering with the outfit. A man in the interior of the big white wagon, and whose eyes Cayuse could see at an aperture in the canvas, said something in a low voice to the woman at the lines. She looked hard at Cayuse. “What is your name, boy?” the woman asked. “All same Little Cayuse,” he answered. “What I thought,” said a gruff voice within.