THE WOLF HUNTERS 



On looking out of my port-hole again I noticed 

 with a hopeless feeling that daylight was fast com- 

 ing and as yet no sign or sound of the hoped-for 

 rescuers. 



Suddenly I detected the sound of tramping 

 horses' feet, and springing to my feet to get a bet- 

 ter view out of the tent door, I looked in the direc- 

 tion from which the sounds came and could see 

 indistinctly a party of mounted men, on the trot, 

 skirting along the foot of the bluffs just southeast 

 of camp, as though intending to pass it from the 

 direction of To hausen's village. 



"Could they be a reinforcement of Kiowas going 

 to join Satank's party?" I asked myself. "No, 

 they were keeping too well closed up for Indians. 

 It must be Captain Saunders' company, and they 

 have somehow missed the trail that would have 

 taken them to the besieged wagon. But why don't 

 they come here, instead of going by on the trot?" 



While putting these puzzling questions to my- 

 self I was standing with the folds of the tent door 

 slightly parted, peeping out stealthily, lest the 

 bullet of my lurking foe might find me. When the 

 party of mounted men were nearly opposite our 

 tent I noticed one from the head of the column 

 branch off and strike a gallop in my direction, and 

 a moment later the welcome voice of Wild Bill 

 called out: 



'Halloo, Peck, are you still a-kicking?" 



Answering him with an affirmative shout, I 

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