Minutes might mean much now.

Dupont had disappeared over that ridge to the right, in the direction of Black Kettle's camp.

How far away that might be was altogether guess-work, yet what would inevitably occur when the fugitive arrived among his friends, and told his story, could be clearly conceived.

Even if the man believed Hamlin killed, he would recall to mind the girl, and would return to assure himself as to her fate.

Knowing her helplessness, the practical impossibility of her escape alone, a return expedition might not be hurried, yet, beyond doubt, this isolated valley would have Indian visitors within a few hours.