The talk did not amount to anything, because the chiefs said nothing of importance. But they spent the night as guests of General Hancock, in a tent put up for them.
Early in the morning the visiting chiefs left, taking with them the little Cheyenne boy, who hung back and whimpered.
“He’s white, now,” commented Wild Bill, watching. “In a month he’ll be red, and in six Cheyenne’ll be the only tongue he knows.”
“Fust thing they’ll do’ll be to peel those store clothes off’n him, an’ put him into blanket an’ leggins,” spoke California Joe. “Tomorrer you wouldn’t recognize him.”
Now all was ready for the march onward to the village. Soon after the Indians had left the clear notes of the “General” rang from bugles of cavalry, infantry and artillery. Down, in a twinkling, fell flat every tent. The canvas was quickly roped into square packs, and passed into the wagons. Speedily ranks were formed, the cavalry mounted, and on up Pawnee Fork of the Arkansas, from Fort Larned marched the troops.
The route followed the river, which, willow and alder bordered, wound crookedly. The scouts rode ahead and on either side—Fall Leaf and his braves being especially vigilant, for all the Western Indians were their enemies.
Moving figures were sighted, before. They were Indians, but they kept out of hailing distance. A great smoke arose, which according to some opinions in the column was caused by the Indians burning the buffalo-grass so that there would be no forage for the expedition. Then, toward evening, when the Indian village was yet ten miles distant, down from above came galloping another party of chiefs and warriors.
They were escorted in by Wild Bill, and were introduced to General Hancock. Pressing their horses to the horses of the white men, they shook hands.
“There’s Pawnee Killer!” exclaimed Ned, excited as he peered. “See him? The man with the yellow shield, on the spotted horse.”
General Custer heard the words, and reined back a moment.
“The scouts all say that he won’t tell you anything about your sister,” warned the general. “It’s very likely he doesn’t know. But we’ll find her. Maybe not this week, or next, but sometime; we’re on the right track to do so.”
The chiefs’ party had turned and were riding along with the commanding officer’s staff; their painted ponies pranced nimbly; blankets and fringes shook in the breeze.