ed pursuit the long line of comrade troopers. But there had
been intervening years of campaign experiences that dulled to a degree
the earlier enthusiasms of the soldier, and taught at least the
assumption of professional composure that was the secret wonder of the
suckling trooper, and that became his chief ambition to acquire. It is
one thing to charge home at a hard-fighting command when friends and
comrades back the effort and cheer the charging line. It is another to
charge home conscious that other chargers are coming at one's heels.
Magnificent as a spectacle, therefore, this closing dash of Lame Wolf's
warriors was but a meek reminder of their earlier attack. Long before
they came within four hundred yards of the leafy stronghold,--the
moment, indeed, the brown Springfields began their spiteful bark,--to
right and left the warriors veered, far out on either flank. Screeching
and yelling as was their savage way, they tore madly by, flattened out
against their ponies' necks and, those who could use their arms at all,
pumping wild shots that whistled harmless over the heads of the
defenders and bit the blackened prairie many a rod beyond. Only jeers
rewarded the stirring spectacle,--jeers and a few low-aimed, sputtering
volleys that brought other luckless ponies to their knees and sprawled a
few red riders. But in less than five minutes from the warning cry that
hailed their coming, Lame Wolf and his hosts were lining Elk Tooth ridge
and watching with burning hate and vengeful eyes the swift, steady
advance of Webb's long blue fighting line, and the utter unconcern of
the defence. Even before the relieving squadron was within carbine range
certain of Ray's men had scrambled out upon the northward bank and,
pushing forward upon the prairie, were possessing themselves of the arms
and ornaments of the two dead warriors whom the Sioux had strived in
vain to reach and bear within their lines. Ray and Clayton at the moment
were strolling placidly forth upon the southward "bench" to receive and
welcome the little knot of comrades sent galloping in advance to greet
them. There was perhaps just a suspicion of exaggerated nonchalance
about their gait and bearing--a regimental weakness, possibly--and no
other officer save Lieutenant Field happened to be within earshot when
Winsor's voice on the other front was heard in hoarse command:

"Come back there, you fellows! Back or you're goners!"

The sight had proved too much for s