There was a ridge ahead, the trail leading through a ravine, and beyond the country was rolling, seamed with canons and ridges, with rocks and a stunted growth of trees visible upon every side. By letting two of his braves dash on with his captive, after entering the ravine, he could, with the rest of his force, dismount from their ponies and go into an ambush, where he could check the pursuit very suddenly, and if he could only kill the white captain of the redskin soldiers he would feel no dread of his men. And so the chief planned, while Jennie turned white with dread, and yet could but obey the command of Red Hatchet to ride on. He had called two of his warriors up, and ordering one to place himself upon either side of her, bade them push on until they reached the shelter of the Bad Lands, when they were to await his coming. He had no idea of allowing the captive to enter the retreat of the hostiles, unless he was with her to claim his prize. "I will bring the Snow Flower the scalp of the pale-face captain that caught the Red Hatchet with his death rope," he said, referring to his capture with the lariat by Kit Carey, and speaking in the boastful tone so often used by the Indians. "The white captain did not kill the Red Hatchet, but let him go. Would the chief kill one who was his friend?" asked Jennie, earnestly. "Yes," was the reply. "The white captain is the foe of my people. The Red Hatchet saw him capture the mighty Chief Sitting Bull, and kill him, and again he saw him kill the braves of Chief Big Foot in the fight at Wounded Knee. The Red Hatchet has a heart, and his heart bleeds for the dead Sioux, whom the white captain has killed. When his scalp is here, then will the Sioux be happy!" and he patted his belt, where, in anticipation, he already beheld the scalp of Lieutenant Carey. "Now, let the Snow Flower go on with my horses," said the chief a moment after, as they dashed into the ravine. Jennie could but obey, and as she sped on the Sioux and his braves threw themselves from their ponies, which went on under the lead of four warriors. The balance of the band quickly sought cover and lay in ambush. But the minutes went by, and the clatter of prancing hoofs did not break upon the ears of the ambushed savages. The "white captain" was too old an Indian fighter to be caught in a trap, and so had come to a halt. Where he had halted, too, was amid a pile of rocks at the crossing of a small creek, susceptible of being well defended, and with water for his men and their horses. He had not blindly run into the trap set for him by Red Hatchet, for he had seen through it. Realizing that he could not overtake the chief in the country they had then reached, when half a dozen men in ambush could keep five times their number at bay, he had halted among the rocks, and given his men and horses a rest. Night was not very far away, and he intended to play a game of cunning, too.