As he advanced, the redskins vanished altogether, and Pandy was beginning to believe they had gone altogether, when he heard a singular but well-known whoop that made him draw rein with an exclamation of surprise. At the same instant a tall Indian stepped into view from behind a bowlder and advanced boldly toward the ranger. The latter seemed to recognize him, for a smile illuminated his bronzed and blood-stained countenance. It was Eagle Eye, the Crow chief, whose hand Pandy pressed so warmly. The Crow scouts of the expedition were some of his braves, but the chief had missed seeing the ranger before. They were old friends, having hunted and trapped together a whole season several years before. "Brother been in the big fight; much hurt?" said the chief, looking with dismay at the ranger's many wounds, which he seemed to regard as so many scratches, although some of them were very serious. "Yes, I war thar, chief, an' 'twar ther hottest time o' my life. Did ye see it?" "We reached the hilltop too late to take part. Custer gone up and all his men? Ugh! it was a heap big fight. How brother get away?" "Wal, ye see," said Pandy, tying a rag over one of his worst wounds, and sitting with one leg over the saddle, "we war jist about goin' under, an' I'd 'cluded not to survive the boys, when Yates asked me ter make an attempt ter git away ter carry the news ter Mary, az ther feller sez, so I done it. Kin tell ye more about it another time, chief. Just now I want ter git ye ter do sumpin important. Know where Terry air?" The chief pointed in the direction whence lay the distant Yellowstone, as Pandy well knew, and the ranger beamed his satisfaction. "I reckon ye're correct, chief. Now, what I want is that ye send a couple o' yer men ter tell the gineral this sad news, an' git him ter hurry on hyar, fur I heerd firing down below, an' ef Reno hain't met Custer's fate he's in a bad fix anyhow. I intend ter jine him wharever he may be an' stand ther consequences. Chief, I'm off. Remember I depend on ye," and waving his hand toward his red friend, Pandy Ellis disappeared in the growing shadow that told of the coming night. CHAPTER IX. RED GOLIATH, THE GIGANTIC HERCULES. Mason, General Custer's boy friend, leaned forward still more, relying on the hold he had upon the tree bending over the water, when that unmistakable sound, the dip of a paddle, reached his ears. Underneath him the water of the Little Horn gurgled and plashed among the stones jutting out from the bank; close by a melancholy owl tried to make night hideous with its solemn declarations of warning, and once in a while the barking of dogs in the great village could be heard; but to these usual noises the boy paid little heed, as he had heard them for some time past.