Hamlin had thought this over as he rode and already had planned his attack. The opening to the valley, along which Le Fevre's exhausted party were slowly advancing toward them, seemed favorable--it was narrow and badly choked with snow. It offered an ideal place for a surprise and was far enough away from the Indian encampment--if the latter was situated as Hughes believed, in the great bend above--so that no echo of shots would carry that distance, even through the crisp atmosphere. There were two things the Sergeant had determined to accomplish if possible--the rescue of Miss Molly uninjured, and the capture of Le Fevre. No matter how deeply he despised the man he could not afford to have him killed. So far as the Indians were concerned there would be no mercy shown, for if either one escaped he would carry the news to the village. With all this in his mind the Sergeant swung out of the saddle, dropping the rein to the ground, confident that the tired cow-pony would remain quiet. His belt was buckled outside the army overcoat, and he drew his revolver, tested it, and slipped it back loosely into the holster. Then he pulled out the rifle from under the flap of the saddle, grimly handling it in his gloved fingers. Hughes, his head sunk into his fur collar, his hot breath steaming in the cold atmosphere, watched him curiously.
"Lookin' fer a right smart fight, I reckon," he said, a trifle uneasily. "Believe me, yer ain't goin' ter find thet fellar no spring chicken. He 's some on ther gun play."
"I hope he knows enough to quit when he 's cornered," returned the other pleasantly, sweeping his eyes to the opening in the hills, "for I 'm aiming to take him back to Kansas alive."
"The hell ye are!"
"That 's the plan, pardner, and I 've got reason for it. I knew Le Fevre once, years ago, during the war, and I 've been some anxious to get my hands on him ever since. He 's worth far more to me alive than dead, just now, and, Hughes," his voice hardening, "you 'll bear that fact in mind when the fracas begins. From now on this is my affair, not yours. You understand? You get busy with the two bucks, and leave the white man to me. Come on now,--dismount."
Hughes came to the ground with evident reluctance, swearing savagely.
"What do yer think I 'm yere for," he demanded roughly, "if it wa'n't to shoot that cuss?"
Hamlin strode swiftly over, and dropped a hand on the shaggy shoulder.