As a Brule medicine man he could glean information without appearing to seek it, and he knew that his safety lay in not standing inspection in the broad glare of day. He had assumed the name of Moon Eyes, pretending that only by night should he be seen and attend to his duties, and this gave him a chance to lie hidden by day, or rather keep within the shadow of his medicine tepee. The Sun Gazer was equally anxious to be about only by day, and the vindictive old wretch lost no time in trying to ferment trouble. Just who Moon Eyes was he did not know, but the stranger flattered the vanity of the old medicine chief to such an extent that he was willing to swear by him to the end. Having returned from dispatching his courier to the general, Moon Eyes at once began to circulate all around the camps, still keeping up his incantations to the moon, until that orb went down behind the horizon. In doing this there was method in the seeming madness of the fake medicine man, for he had discovered the position of the camps most completely, and all that he cared to know about the strength of the hostiles. He found out just where the young captive was quartered, and he overheard enough, among a council of chiefs, to know that they were anxious to kill and scalp himself. With the scalp of Kit Carey in their possession the chiefs thought that it would bring them luck and teach their white foes the lesson that they were in earnest. In spite of his rank the Indians regarded Kit Carey as holding a most important position in the army, for it was by his deeds that they knew him, and the fact that he commanded the Indian soldiers clustered about their lines. So it was decided to send out a young Brule warrior, bearing the very appropriate name of Not-Afraid-of-Death to kill the white captain, or any other army officer that he might be able to lead into a trap. Having made the discovery that Not-Afraid-of-Death was to take the trail before dawn, Kit Carey returned to the medicine lodge, and told the old chief that he was to "go into the shadows of sleep," and not to be disturbed until he awoke after nightfall, for he was to see what fortune the moon held for the Indians. Then he slipped again out of camp, and went to a position some distance from the retreat, where Not-Afraid-of-Death was to start upon his trail for an officer's scalp, his fondest desire being to raise the hair of Kit Carey. Having secured a point of look-out, the white captain lay in wait for future developments. Along in the morning Not-Afraid-of-Death was visible scouting along a ridge, as though he saw an enemy, for his every movement indicated as much. He was a Brule, and with him was an Ogallala warrior, and the two ran in a crouching position to a certain point. Who they were watching Kit Carey could not see, for the ridge shut their intended victim from his sight. But soon after there rode into view an officer accompanied by an Indian scout.