The savages were moving north, and so were they.

It would be remarkably good fortune if they escaped running into some wandering band, or if some stray scout did not stumble upon their trail.

So they continued to plod on.
It was fully three o'clock when they attained to the bank of the Powder, and crouched among the rocks to wait for the shades of night to shroud their further advance.

Murphy climbed the bluff for a wider view, bearing Hampton's field-glasses slung across his shoulder, for the latter would not leave him alone with the horses.

He returned finally to grunt out that there was nothing special in sight, except a shifting of those smoke signals to points farther north.