The afternoon wore away, but no bands of hostile Indians appeared in sight. Bill and Wild Bill headed parties, and rode some five miles from the fort, but they saw no signs which led them to suppose that an attack was .
The party of soldiers who had chased Wild Bill’s pursuers returned to the fort during the course of the afternoon, and reported that they had followed the Indians about ten miles without coming up to them.
Then they saw another party of Indians, at least five hundred strong, riding across the prairie to join the , so the in command wisely gave the order to turn the horses’ heads back toward the fort. The Indians did not chase them.
More settlers came in during the afternoon, and they lighted fires in the courtyard of the fort, and prepared to cook their dinner, for there was no proper accommodation for them.
As their bear steaks and deer meat frizzled and sizzled on the fire, they told one another queer of Western life, for they were all men who had seen the rough and humorous side of the frontier.
“We’ll come out of this yer business all right,” observed one of the men. “I’ve come through worse gol-durned contraptions than this, by a long sight.”
“Yes, it’s an old saying out in my country,” said a hunter from Arizona, “that if you let things alone long enough they will even up of themselves.
“Take, for instance, the case of Cade. There were two brothers of them—Jack and Bill—and one day a crowd got after Bill for horse stealing, and caught and strung him up. He protested his , but it was no go. We found out a month later, however, that we had actually hung the wrong man and let the real thief get out of the country.”
“And did things even up later on?” he was asked.
“They did. We couldn’t restore Bill to life, and beg his pardon, and elect him alderman of the town, but when we caught his brother Jack, after he had robbed a settler of his , we not only let him off the hanging, but made him sheriff and squared things in proper shape.
“Things don’t always even up for the man who’s been planted, but if he leaves any relatives behind, the public will see to it that his loss turns out to be their gain.”
Just before it grew dark several of the and outposts who had been placed by Buffalo Bill rode into the fort, and reported that a very strong force of Indians was advancing over the prairie in three columns.
Some of the men estimated that the war party numbered more than four thousand men, but others placed it at not over half that number.
The colonel called Buffalo Bill and Hickok to him, and held a hasty council of war.
“It is as I expected,” said the border king. “The Indians are fondest of attacking either at dusk or just at daybreak. They think are likely to be less at those times, and I guess they are right, as a rule.
“But luckily we are ready for them. If I might make a suggestion, colonel, I think it would be a good plan to pretend that we are much less numerous than we actually are. They are not likely to know our strength.
“Let only fifty or a hundred men reply to their fire. Keep about four hundred in reserve, ready to pour a terrible volley into the redskins when they try to rush the fort, encouraged by what they suppose to be our weakness.
“A surprise like that always knocks the heart out of an Indian. As soon as they , we might make a sudden sortie and charge them vigorously.
“By adopting this plan, I believe we shall have a good chance of a crushing defeat upon them, although they so greatly outnumber us.”
“It’s a capital idea,” said the colonel, “and we will carry it out. I won’t let more than about seventy men reply to their first volleys, and I’ll tell the officers in charge of our four field guns not to fire until the redskins are outside the walls.”
He hurried away to give these orders, and by the time he had done so the redskin host appeared in sight.
It numbered between two and three thousand men, and approached swiftly, for all the braves were mounted. They belonged to tribes which practically lived in the saddle—the Sioux, the Cheyennes, and the Crows.