"Go and help take care of them," he commanded. "Sing to them--amuse them. Wolf Robe," he called to one of the policemen--he of the bow-legs--"go to the people on the hill and say to them to fear nothing, Washington protects them. Tell them they must not fight. Say to the mothers of the little ones that nothing shall hurt them. Go quick!" Wolf Robe handed his sombrero, his coat, and his revolver to his friend, Beaver Kill, and ran away towards the corral, agile as a boy. "What did he do that for?" asked Jennie. Curtis smiled. "He is Indian now; he doesn't want to be mistaken for a cowboy." When he reappeared on his pony, his long, dark hair streaming, a red handkerchief bound about his head, he looked like a warrior stripped for battle. "There isn't a faithfuler man in the world," said Curtis, and a lump rose in his throat. "He has been riding half the night for me, but he charges that hill as if he were playing a game." "I don't understand how you can trust them to do such things," said Elsie. "Perhaps he will not come back. How do you know he will do as you commanded?" "Because that ugly little bow-legged Tetong is a man!" replied Curtis. "He would die in performance of his duty." And something in his voice made the tears start to Elsie's eyes. The sentinels on the hills were quiet now--facing the northeast, motionless as weather-vanes. The camps had disappeared as if by magic; nothing remained but a few wagons. Wolf Robe, diminishing to the value of a coyote, was riding straight towards the retreating women. Even as Curtis watched, the chieftains on the higher hill rose, and one of them started downward towards the warriors on the rounded hill-top. Then a small squad detached itself from the main command and slid down the grassy slope to meet the women. As they rode slowly on, the moving figures of those leading the camp horses gathered round them. Curtis understood some command was being shouted by the descending squad. Separating themselves from the led ponies, these scouts swept on down the hill directly upon the solitary and minute figure of Wolf Robe, whose pony climbed slowly and in zigzag course. "They will kill him," said a woman. Wolf Robe halted and waited till the skirmishers rode up to him. They massed round him closely, listening while he delivered his message. "When he returns we will know all that his people have learned of the invaders," said Curtis. "They will tell him what they have seen." "It is strange," exclaimed Elsie, in a low voice, standing close beside him. "But I'm not afraid. It is like a story--a dream. That I should stand here watching Indians preparing for war and waiting for United States troops is incredible." "I wish it were not true," he replied. "But it is. I have no fear of my people, only of the rash act of a vicious white man." "Which way will the cattlemen come from?" asked Jennie.