A few minutes later, however, when the riderless animals came galloping furiously in, with their long lassos dragging in the dust behind them, the camp became a scene of confusion indescribable.

Labor of all kinds was suspended, and everyone anxious to hear what everyone else thought.

Jerry gave it as his opinion, that the animals had escaped from the place where Hal and Ned had left them; still, he reckoned some one ought to go back and search for them, “Cause the plains warn’t no place for boys, no how.”

Saddling our horses and taking three of the men with us, Jerry and myself rode back towards the dog-town, discharging our pistols and making all the noise possible, in order to attract the attention of the youngsters in the darkness.  Occasionally we listened for a reply; but not a sound could we hear, save the snarling yelp of some prairie-dog, disturbed by the unusual noises, or the sharp, shrill cry of the night-hawk, that rapidly swooped over our heads.

In a state of great anxiety, we passed a wretched night; and, at daylight, commenced a thorough search for traces of the missing boys.  Finally Jerry discovered their tracks in the road leading towards camp; and it seemed possible that we might have missed them in the darkness, and, if we at once returned, should find them with the train.

We had proceeded scarcely more than a mile on the way back to camp, when I noticed that Jerry, who was a short distance in advance, suddenly stopped, as though waiting for me to overtake him.  As I rode up, he pointed to a fresh Indian trail, crossing our road almost at right angles, and said in a low tone,—­

“Ez sartin ez you’re livin’, the Comanches hev got ’em!  That trail ain’t twelve hours old, and there’s a dozen of the varmints ef there’s one.”

“Then let us instantly follow and retake them,” was my reply.

“That’s a heap easier said than done,” replied the old man.  “We won’t stan’ much show, chasin’ a dozen or twenty Comanches, and they ez likely ez not, forty miles ahead of us.  Still, we’ve got ter git them boys somehow; and the fust thing towards it is ter go ter camp and git some grub, ’cause a man can’t fite wuth a cent on a empty stomach.”

There was truth in Jerry’s observation.  We therefore urged our animals into a brisk canter; but, when within about two miles of our camp, his keen eyes detected, upon a rise of the ground some distance to our right, a solitary figure, motionless upon a horse.

At the sight we halted; for the figure commenced waving a large blanket in the air, then urged his animal forward, and came toward us at full run.

[Illustration:  Lone Indian.]

“He shook that air blanket ter let us know that he’s friendly and wants ter speak to us; but I reckon I’d better find out who he is, afore he comes any nearer” said Jerry, as he spurred his horse forward to meet him.

Upon reaching a small knoll a few hundred yards in advance of us, Jerry suddenly stopped and held up his right hand, with the palm outward.  Then he slowly moved it backward and forward a few times; when, to my great surprise, the Indian checked his horse, and sat as though awaiting further orders.  Again Jerry raised his hand; this time moving it before and across his face three or four times.