As we swept from the gorge, I cast a glance behind. The sound of female voices caused me to look back. The Utah women, mounted on mules and horses, were coming down the canon, with the white huntress at their head! I wished a word with _her_; but it was too late. I dared neither pause nor go back. My Utah allies would have branded me as a coward--a traitor to my own cause! I did not hesitate a moment; but, joining in the "Ugh-aloo," I dashed into the midst of the dusky host, and galloped onward to the charge. CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN. THE SURPRISE. The white cloud--a puff of powder-smoke--had scarcely scattered in the air, when a dark mass appeared upon the plain, emerging from the sulphureous vapour. It was a troop of horsemen--the warriors of Wa-ka-ra. On giving the signal they had issued forth from the lower canon, and were coming up the valley at a gallop. They were too distant for us to heat their charging cheer; but from right and left proceeded a double shout--a war-cry answering to our own; and, the moment after, a stream of dusky forms was seen pouring down each bluff, through the sloping gorges that led to the plain. We could hear the shout that announced the astonishment of the Arapahoes. It betokened more than astonishment; there was terror in its wild intonations. It was evident that they had been taken altogether by surprise; having no suspicion that an enemy was near--least of all the dreaded foes who were now rushing forward to surround them. The red men are rarely betrayed into a panic. Accustomed from earliest youth to war, with all its wiles, they are always prepared for a _stampede_. It is the system they themselves follow, and are ever expecting to be practised against them. They accept the chances of attack--no matter how sudden or unforeseen--with all the coolness of a contest premeditated and prearranged. Even terror does not always create confusion in their ranks--for there are no ranks--and in conflicts with their own race, combinations that result from drill and discipline are of little consequence. It is usually a fight hand to hand, and man to man--where individual prowess prevails, and where superior personal strength and dexterity conduct to conquest. It is for this reason that the scalp-trophy is so highly prized: it is a proof that he who has taken it must have fought to obtain it. When "hair is raised" in a night attack--by the chance of an arrow or a bullet--it is less esteemed. By the laws of Indian warfare the stratagem of assassination is permissible, and practised without stint. But a _coup_ of this kind is far less glorious, than to slay an enemy, in the open field, and under the broad glare of the sunlight. In conflicts by day, strategy is of slight advantage, and superior numbers are alone dreaded.