But in a moment they rallied out again with startling distinctness--then grew fainter--died away and rung out once more. “Some one is riding fast,” said Beers. “And he is coming this way,” added Hammond. A few minutes convinced them of the truth. A single horseman was riding at great speed over the prairie, and was manifestly aiming straight for the grove where the emigrants had halted for the night. As a matter of course, all the sentinels had observed it by this time, and there was great excitement among them. They gathered about Hammond to receive his directions. “Go back to your stations,” said he. “Keep your eyes and ears open for others, whether they be mounted or afoot, and I will attend to this one.” His orders were obeyed, for he was looked upon as having authority in this matter, and with an interest difficult to understand they awaited the coming of the horseman. As the latter came nearer, he seemed to be heading straight for the point where Hammond and Beers were standing. During the last few moments, the sky had cleared so rapidly that objects could be distinguished for quite a distance, and the two men strained their eyes through the gloom to catch sight of the stranger. “There he is,” whispered Hammond, as the dim outlines of a horse was discovered through the darkness. The horseman had reined his horse down to a walk, and was advancing quite cautiously. He continued onward until within a dozen feet of the two men, when he reined up. “Who comes there?” asked Hammond. “A friend.” “What do you seek?” “You are in great danger, and I have come to warn you of it.” “Good heavens!” exclaimed Beers, in an undertone; “that is a _woman_!” Hammond had noticed the wondrously soft and musical voice, and he now walked forward, so as to stand beside the horse. The dim light showed that Beers spoke the truth; it was a woman seated upon the horse. “May I ask your name?” There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the female answered: “I am Lamora; and I speak the truth.” “We do not doubt it,” responded the amazed Hammond. “What is it you have to say?” “A thousand Blackfeet warriors are coming down on this grove, two or three hours before sunrise, and if you remain, there will not be one who will escape alive.” “What shall we do?” “Make ready as soon as possible and start westward. Let there not be a moment’s delay, and you will be saved.” “But they can follow us to-morrow, (if not to-night,) and attack us by daylight.” “They can, but they will not,” replied Lamora, with the greatest earnestness. “This is a great war-party on their way southward to fight the Cheyennes. They are to meet a long ways off to-morrow; the Blackfeet have given themselves just enough time to massacre you and your friends, if you remain in this grove, as they expect you will; but if they come here and do not find you, they will have no time to follow up your wagons, and thus, you see, if you improve your time, you will be saved.”