He circled the camp, so as to approach it from the other direction; and was guided in his work by now and then seeing a flash from one of the sputtering fires where the Cheyennes were roasting their meat. They had brought down an antelope during the afternoon, and they were preparing for a feast, which never comes amiss to the stomach of an Indian. When he was close up to the camp the scout slid to the ground, and then led his pony on, with hand held ready to catch it by the nose, if it showed signs of wanting to neigh. Off at one side, in a grassy space where the mesquite did not grow, he discovered the Cheyenne ponies feeding. They kept close together, and he was sure from that that a herder had them in charge, though this herder he could not see. The Cheyenne ponies fed slowly toward him. One of them snorted, and then neighed; and at that a young Indian was seen by the scout gliding among them. The motion of the Indian set the ponies to moving, and they drifted toward the scout, and soon he was in the midst of a small group of them. This suited him, for when they began to feed again, putting their heads to the ground, he permitted his pony to feed along with them; and he kept his body and head close down to the earth, that he might not be seen by the herder. The feasting at the Indian camp fire lasted longer than he had thought it would; the Cheyennes had made a good ride that day, and as they ate they were planning and boasting of the red work they intended to do along the New Mexican border, after they had joined their fellow tribesmen down there and had stirred them to go on the warpath. But at last they were ready to move again. The scout’s keen ears apprised him of the fact, when they called some questions to the pony herder, and the herder shouted back to them. A number of young Cheyennes streamed out from the camp, and began to get their ponies and lead them toward the fires. The time for which the scout had waited so long had come. He, too, led his pony along; and with his Indian disguise and blanket he seemed but one of the Cheyennes leading in his pony. When the Cheyennes mounted and were ready to move on with their prisoners, the scout was mounted and in their midst, and they did not know that a rider had been added to their number; they could not have told that without making a count, and they did not think to do that; in truth, they did not once suspect that an enemy was in their midst, or near. As the Cheyennes thus rode forth again in the darkness, heading still toward the Southwest, Buffalo Bill rode with them, silent and watchful. He understood the Cheyenne tongue, as he did most of the Indian languages and dialects of the border, and he was ready with answers, if questioned by any one. But he was not questioned. By careful work he located the prisoners, and by work as careful he edged his pony by degrees toward them, nearer and nearer.