We heard wailing, the barking of dogs, the crying of
children. We saw the Sioux separate thus into two bands, the men
remaining behind riding back and forth, whooping and holding aloft their
weapons. We heard the note of a dull war drum beating the clacking of
their rattles and the shrill notes of their war whistles.
"They'll fight," said Auberry. "Look at 'em!"
"Here they come," said Belknap, coolly. "Get down, men."
[Illustration: AT EVERY TURN FORCED TO HIDE THEIR TRACKS]
CHAPTER XVII
SIOUX!
The record of this part of my life comes to me sometimes as a series of
vivid pictures. I can see this picture now--the wide gray of the flat
valley, edged with green at the coulee mouths; the sandy spots where the
wind had worked at the foot of the banks; the dotted islands out in the
shimmering, shallow river. I can see again, under the clear, sweet,
quiet sky, the picture of those painted men--their waving lances, their
swaying bodies as they reached for the quivers across their shoulders. I
can see the loose ropes trailing at the horses' noses, and see the light
leaning forward of the red and yellow and ghastly white-striped and
black-stained bodies, and the barred black of the war paint on their
faces.
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