"I can't yet see the end of the advancing herd under the rim of the horizon," he announced when he descended, "but, as you can tell from the ground, it's thinning out." "Which means thar'll no longer be a river cutting us off from the hoss Indians on the south," said the Little Giant, "an' which means, too, that it's time fur us to light out from here an' foller the trail." Curving considerably toward the north for fear of the Indian hunters, who were likely to be where the buffaloes were, they rode at a good pace over the plain, the pack horses and mules following readily without leading. Their curve finally took them so far toward the north that the swells of the plain hid the buffalo herd--only Will's glasses disclosing traces of the dust cloud--and the thunder of its passage no longer reached their ears. Near sundown they came to a low ridge covered with bushes, and deciding that it was an excellent place for a camp they rode into the thick of it until sure also from the presence of tree growth that they would find water not far away. Will was the first to dismount and as he went over the crest and down the slope in search of a stream or pool, he uttered a cry of horror. He had come upon a sight, alas! too familiar at that time upon the plains. Scattered about a little grassy opening were seven or eight human skeletons, picked so clean by the wolves that they were white and glistening. But the lad knew that wolves had not caused their deaths. Bullet, arrow and lance had done the work. He shuddered again and again, but he was too much of the mountain ranger and plainsman now to turn aside because of horror. He concluded that the skeletons represented perhaps two families, surprised and slaughtered by the Sioux. Several of them were small, evidently those of children, and he arrived at the number two because he saw in the bushes near by two of the great wagons of the emigrant camp, overturned and sacked. Just beyond was a small, clear stream which obviously had caused the victims to stop there. Will walked back slowly and gravely to his comrades. "Did you find water, young William?" asked the Little Giant jovially. "I did," replied the lad briefly. "Then why does that gloom set upon your brow?" "Because I found something else, too." "What else do we need? Water fur ourselves an' the animals is all we want." "But I found something else, I tell you, Tom Bent, and it was not a sight pleasant to see." The Little Giant noticed the shudder in the lad's tones, and he asked more seriously: "Signs of hostile bands comin', young William?" "No, not that, but signs where they have passed, skeletons of those whom they have slain, just beyond the bushes there, picked clean, white and glistening. Come with me and see!" The others, who heard, went also, and the men looked reflectively at the scene.