eight o'clock
And that was the last Major Chrome saw of his battalion adjutant , of the `` Eleventh '' half of his battalion , and of all but one of the six jayhawkers referred to , in many a long week . One of the latter made his way back afoot in the course of half an hour , saying his horse was shot under him in the valley , which was thick with Indians , and Chrome looked yellow-white and a trifle undecided . But again the big herd of ponies from some unseen cause was in rapid motion , loping away southwestward . All the guards and flankers were on the run , and it was half an hour before things quieted down again , and when eight o'clock came Canker sent in word that there were dozens of Indians on the bluffs ahead where the valley narrowed , and it would be well to halt and round up the herd right there and wait for Cranston and Truman , and Chrome so ordered . Presently the dust-cloud began to settle , and by and by , when it floated slowly to earth again , half a dozen at a time , under cover of their comrades ' carbines , the troopers ventured to the stream to fill their canteens and souse their grimy heads . There , peacefully grazing again , were the Indian ponies by the hundreds and their dusty guardians by the score ; but , far as eye could see down the beautiful valley , not a sign of Sanders , his party , his comrades of the Eleventh , or , worse than all , of the pack-train , and Chrome and his people were getting hungry . There were still with him the sergeant and trumpeter who had brought the despatch from Colonel Winthrop , and to them again did Chrome appeal for an estimate of the probable distance and direction of the colonel 's camp .