The Indians seemed to have gathered around the camp fires between the rows of tepees to listen to the stories of the day’s hunt by the returned warriors. They had killed twenty buffaloes and had had a brush with a great army of pony soldiers. The Indians had called at the sacred mountain to leave a tender young cow buffalo for the daughter of the moon, when they saw the pony soldiers approaching. There were hundreds of the white warriors, according to their tale, and the red men had attacked them and slain many, but had escaped without a wound themselves. The white warriors were coming to make offering at the sacred mountain, the red men believed. Price and Ike were present, and the former made a speech setting forth the valor and bravery of the red warriors, and telling them that the white men were becoming afraid of the Sioux braves and would be swept back across the great river and forever leave the plains for the Indians. He was cheered and the cowskin drums were beaten wildly. But while this was going on Buffalo Bill and Hickok had not been idle. They readily selected the tepee in which Cayuse was confined, and a sharp knife running down through the buffalo skin back gave no sound that could be heard above the hubbub at the fires. An Indian sat on either side of the front of the tepee, as they had done in the afternoon, but they were so engrossed with the performance as to be oblivious to the light sounds made by the scout as he entered the wigwam through the slit in the back. The firelight shone in past the flap and revealed to the scout that Little Cayuse was not there. At first the scout feared he had entered the wrong tepee, but he soon reassured himself by finding the thongs that had bound the Piute’s feet and hands. Little Cayuse had made his escape from the village unaided, but whether he could manage to pass the guard at the head of the cañon before he was missed was another story. The scout made haste to find Hickok and the two set out for the cañon, realizing that the moment the alarm was sounded that the prisoner had escaped from the tepee an attempt would be made to cut off his escape down the narrow, difficult trail to the cañon. Every moment they expected to hear shouts of enraged savages behind them, and knew that in their hurried progress through the forest they were likely to step into the arms of warriors at any instant. But they reached the incline that led up out of the wooded basin before the descent to the cañon begun, without incident. As they left the moss for the rocks they could see the top of the wall plainly outlined against the sky--and at that moment at the crest could be seen a crouching, silent figure just going over the rim. “Cayuse,” spoke the scout in a low tone, and the figure paused, then slid back toward them. It was the Indian pard, sure enough, and now there were three to steal down by the Indian guard in the cañon.