Omohondreau was an adept at this wonderful means of communication, which was really a general language understood by the members of all the red tribes. He raised first one hand, palm outward, and then the other, and motioned the red men back. The warriors hesitated--then obeyed. But a mounted figure came dashing from another part of the field, and this silent sign manual did not retard it. “Face of a pig!” ejaculated Texas Jack, in the patois of the French Canadian, and which he sometimes lapsed into in moments of excitement. “Here comes that gal, Bill!” “The White Antelope!” exclaimed Cody. “I had forgotten her.” “Shall I warn her away?” “I’m afraid if you turned to face her she would see that you are not Oak Heart.” “Quicker, then, Pard Cody!” “No. They might suspect.” “Heavens, Bill! What will you do when the girl overtakes us?” “Whatever comes handiest.” “I could put a bullet through her without turning,” muttered Jack. “You wouldn’t be so cruel, old man.” “Hang it, man!” exclaimed Jack in disgust. “She’s only a ’breed.” “No. You’ll not injure her. I have your promise, Jack,” said Cody confidently. “But she’ll finish us if she suspects. I think she has a pistol,” said Jack. “We’ll see.” “Hang it, Bill Cody! You’re the coldest proposition I ever came across. I’ll eat this old war-bonnet--and it’s about as digestible as a wreath of prickly pear--if we don’t have trouble with that gal.” Evidently White Antelope was much amazed by the fact that her father did not even look in her direction, for she called some welcome to him in Sioux. Neither of the scouts made reply, but both kept watch of her out of the corners of their eyes. The girl, puzzled by the mystery, half drew in her pony. The mob of Indians waited. That they were puzzled was evident; but as long as they remained inactive the scouts’ chances were increased. “Can we make it, Pard Cody?” muttered Texas Jack. “If the girl doesn’t suspect too quick.” “She’ll queer us--sure!” “I hope not,” and Buffalo Bill looked grave. “If she comes nearer we’ll have to do something, Bill--as sure as thunder she’s coming!” It was true. White Antelope had again spoken to her pony, and the animal leaped forward. She came from the left, and Texas Jack rode nearest her. “Keep on, Jack!” exclaimed Bill under his breath. He pulled back Buckskin and got around so as to ride between the supposed Indian chief and the girl. Instantly White Antelope seemed to suspect that all was not right. She raised her voice, crying in her native tongue: “Why does the great chief not speak to his child? Oak Heart, my father, it is I, your daughter, White Antelope, who calls you!” She was all the time riding nearer. There seemed no way to stop her, and she must soon be near enough to observe that the supposed Oak Heart was a false Indian.