en o'clock. Could he hold the station for twelve minutes? Even a
show of force he knew would halt the Indians for an interval.

He hastily pushed such packages of freight as lay in the store-room up
to the various windows, as slight barricades behind which he could
hide to shoot, and with much effort got the largest packing-case
against the platform door so they could not rush him from the creek
side. For the twentieth time he looked over his revolver, placed a
little store of cartridges behind each shelter, and peered again out
of the windows. To his horror he perceived that the two parties had
joined and were riding in a great half-circle down on the station.
Evidently the Indians were coming after him before they attacked the
ranch. He reported to the despatcher, and an answer came instantly.
"Stanley should be within five miles. How close are they?"

"Less than half a mile."

"Have you got a gun?"

Bucks wired, "Yes."

"Can you use it?"

"Expect I'll have to."

"Shoot the minute they get within range. Never mind whether you hit
anybody, bang away. What are they doing?"

Bucks ran around the room to look. "Closing in," he answered briefly.

"Can't you see the train?"

Bucks fixed his eyes upon the western horizon. He never had tried so
hard in his life to see anything. Yet the sunshine reflected no sign
of a friendly smoke.

"Nothing in sight," he answered; "I can't hold out much longer."

Hastily closing his key he ran to the south window. A dozen Indians,
beating the alder bushes as they advanced, doubtless suspecting that
he lay concealed in them, were now closest. He realized that by his
very audacity in returning to the building he had gained a few
precious moments. But the nearest Indians had already reached open
ground, two hundred yards away, and through their short, yelping cries
and their halting on the edge of the brake, he understood they were
debating how he had escaped and wondering whether he had gone back
into the station. He lay behind some sacks of flour watching his foes
closely. Greatly to his surprise, his panic had passed and he felt
collected. He realized that he was fighting for his life and meant to
sell it as dearly as possible. And he had resolved to shoot the
instant they started toward him.

From the table he heard the despatcher's call, but he no longer dared
answer it. The Indians, with a war-whoop, urged their ponies ahead and
a revolver shot rang from the station wind