It was late in the afternoon when Hickok awoke, refreshed and ready for action. He had slept the sleep of the weary man who is in perfect physical condition. The proximity of his warlike neighbors had not troubled his dreams. He was sorry to have caused his pards anxiety, but this could not be helped, and there was no use crying over spilled milk. He arose and carefully reconnoitred his position before leaving the thicket. Then he moved to the edge of the timber, and looked across the plain in all directions, except to the northwest, which was hidden by the higher land. Selecting the largest cottonwood which grew in the loving embrace of a willow, he clambered up where he could look over the brow of the ridge. A surprise awaited him. The Indian encampment had quadrupled in size. The little valley looked like a village of a large tribe. But a sight that stirred him more was far out on the plain to the westward. There he first saw a madly galloping cluster of horsemen. There were half a hundred Sioux making all haste to the westward, as if life depended on covering the ground at breakneck speed. Hickok instantly picked out two of the larger animals in the lead, and knew them to be the gallant Bear Paw and his own brave horse. He looked for the object of this wild flight, and saw, far away, a herd of buffalo crossing a ridge toward the sinking sun. “Good enough!” he exclaimed aloud. “To-night they’ll gorge themselves with buffalo meat and celebrate the event. Now, I can see where Hickok gets in his fine work and lights out with a couple of good horses--or gets a tickle of bullets in his ribs in the attempt.” The Laramie man remained in the tree for an hour, watching the chase, and, when the surprised buffalo finally found themselves surrounded by yelling redskins, their pitiful attempts at escape and their maddened charges on the enemy were almost useless. Hickok clambered down, and once more inspected his grub bag. Another little fire provided tea, and as the sun was going down behind the distant hills he again climbed the tree and watched the procession of returning hunters. The night settled overcast and as dark as Erebus. The Indian fires burned up in red glare, and many signals were sent up, evidently telling other encampments of the rich haul of the party that day. It was an ideal night for the work Hickok had in hand; the darker the better, and he felt in prime condition for the undertaking. He saw that his revolvers were loaded and in the best condition, and then filled his water pouch, for he knew not when he would again find the thirst-relieving liquid. His knife was keen.