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That left the gal on their hands, an' them all in a hell of a fix if they wus ever caught. The young Injuns wanted to kill the gal too, an' shet her mouth, but somehow Le Fevre an' Koleta would n't hear to it said she 'd be worth more alive than dead, an' that they could hide her whar she 'd never be heard of ag'in unless her friends put up money to buy her back."
"I reckon now as how Le Fevre put ol' Koleta wise to that game, but I was plum innocent then," he went on regretfully. "Wall, we, thar wus four o' us, hoofed it east till we struck some ranchers on Cow Crick, and got the loan o' some ponies. Then I struck out to locate the main herd. It didn't take me long, stranger, to discover thar wa'n't no herd to locate.
I reckon it won't be none too pleasant 'long with Gene an' them Cheyenne bucks, but if she 's pulled through so far, thar ain't nuthin' special goin' ter happen till they git to the Injun camp." "You mean her fate will be decided in council?" "Sure; thet's Cheyenne law. Le Fevre knows it, an' ol' Koleta would knife him in a minute if he got gay.
I knew then he an' Koleta was in cahoots an' he 'd be headin' this way after the stock. So I come down yere quiet, an' laid fer him to show up." "What then?" "Nuthin' much, till yisterday. I got tergether some cows, herded down river a ways, out o' sight in the bluffs, but hev hed ter keep mighty quiet ter save my hair. Them Cheyennes are sure pisen this year, an' raisin' Cain.
It seems he an' ol' Koleta, an' a young Cheyenne buck, had been hangin' 'round across the river from Dodge fer quite a while waitin' fer Le Fevre to pull off some sorter stunt. Maybe I did n't get just the straight o' it, but anyhow they held up a paymaster, er something like that, fer a big boodle.
But as I wus sayin', Gene caught on to this yere Injun war last spring I reckon ol' Koleta, his Injun father-in-law, likely told him what wus brewin' he's sorter a war-chief. Anyhow he knew thet hell wus to pay, an' so we natch'ally gathered up our long-horns an' drove 'em east whar they would n't be raided.
'Fore we 'd got that bunch o' cattle twenty mile down the Cimarron we wus rounded up by a gang o' Cheyenne Injuns, headed by that ornery Koleta, and every horn of 'em drove off. Thar wa'n't no fight; the damn bucks just laughed at us, an' left us sittin' thar out on the prairie. They hogged hosses an' all." He wiped his face, and spat into the fire, while Hamlin sat silent, gun in hand.
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