Those of the less seriously wounded had dragged themselves back toward their companions; but the others had been removed inside the fort and were being cared for by the surgeon, after he had ministered to the wounded whites. The dead redskins were let lie where they had fallen for the time being. Oak Heart had noted the care taken of his wounded braves by the white medicine-man. If this charity impressed him his immobile face showed no emotion. He sat the horse that had been given him like a graven image. Now the moment had arrived for the departure of the two scouts from the fort. As the pair dashed through the open gateway many good wishes followed them. But the troops had been warned not to cheer. That might apprise the redskins that some desperate venture was about to be made. “Good-by, Bill, and may God guard you!” cried Major Baldwin. “And you, too, Texas Jack! I hope to see you both again.” Cody turned and waved his hand to him; but Jack, in the character of the captured chief, looked straight ahead over his horse’s ears, and he made no gesture. “We’ll bear toward the left, Jack, for our best plan is to strike for the cañon,” said Buffalo Bill. “Right you are, pard. But don’t let’s make a dash till we hafter. We’ll gain everything by keeping them red devils guessing.” “Sure’s you live, Jack! The moment the reds make a move for us, you sign for them to go back. Keep ’em at a distance if you can.” “I will,” assured Texas Jack. “Sit up stiff, old man, and play the part right,” admonished Buffalo Bill with a laugh. These courageous men could laugh in the face of almost certain death! “What d’ye suppose they think of it, Bill?” asked Jack. “They’re awake, all right. I wonder what they think at seeing you bringing their supposed chief back to them?” “I’d give a good deal to know just what they are _going_ to think,” said Cody, more gravely. “But we’ll soon know.” “Betcher we will!” “It’s unnecessary to ask you, Jack, if you’ve got your shooting irons ready?” “Ready and loaded, Bill.” The two scouts were as watchful as antelopes, and as cautious. But they appeared to ride along at an easy lope, and in a most careless fashion. This is the coolness born of long familiarity with peril; they could meet death itself without the quiver of a nerve. They progressed but slowly, and the eyes of most of the red men were fixed upon them. It was plain that the savages did not understand just what was going forward when they saw he who appeared to be their king riding thus quietly, and armed and caparisoned, with Long Hair, the white scout. They could not understand why he was coming back to them in company with Pa-e-has-ka. Soon they began to move forward in a body to meet the coming “chief” and his comrade. “Give ’em the sign language, Jack. It’s time,” muttered Buffalo Bill.