Buffalo Caller was more interested in the fact that the echo of the rifle shot might have carried a long way up the valley. “You will have time later to show off your scalps. We are losing too much of the night.”

Looking back, he almost wished he had let his son burn the cabin. He would like to burn all the cabins and leave no trace that white men had ever come. They were, to him, a curse upon a land once pure and fruitful, now despoiled by plows and cattle and hogs.

By daylight the warriors passed over a hill that marked the upper end of the valley. In front of them, strung out over a considerable distance, trotted a large band of horses and mules. Buffalo Caller tried to count them by fours but gave up after two attempts brought him two different answers. They were enough. Now the challenge would be to get them out of the country without being stopped by the white men’s warriors.

He asked Broken Leg, “Are you all right?”

Broken Leg beamed with delight. “I am a young man again.”

“Good, for we have two long days’ ride ahead of us before we reach the river. Even the young men will be feeling old.”

He was aware of pursuit, though it was tentative and did not press hard. He saw two horsemen trailing a comfortable distance behind. It would be folly for two men to attack the raiders, but they could hang back and keep the horse herd in sight, hoping for reinforcement somewhere ahead. He tried to ignore them, but after half a day they irritated him like an itch he could not scratch away.

He picked two of the young men he judged to be the most seasoned and told Broken Leg, “Keep the horses moving. We will catch up when we have swatted the gnats behind us.”

He led his two warriors out into a thicket and motioned for them to dismount. They squatted on their moccasined heels to wait. Patience was drilled into potential hunters and warriors from the time they were boys. It was as much a part of their training as learning accuracy with the bow, for often they were forced to lie in wait for hours until game approached close enough to kill.

The two white riders passed the thicket. They were too intent upon the heavily marked trail to see the three men, even had the warriors not been so well hidden. One of the young men arose, and Buffalo Caller motioned for him to crouch again. “We will wait until they are well past, then we will come up behind them.”