ians and the groans and shrieks of
the wounded and dying.

As for Joe and Darry, the first shock over, each felt as if he was in a
dream--as if this terrible sight presented to their gaze could not be
true. They shot off their rifles mechanically, yet when it was all over
Joe remembered how he had sent one redskin tumbling back into the ditch,
and Darry could tell of a desperado who had dropped his gun because of a
shot through the shoulder.

"Fight to the last, men!" shouted Captain Moore, as he discharged his
pistol at the leader of the desperadoes. Gilroy had hit him in the
forearm, but the young officer's aim was still more true, and Matt
Gilroy went down never to rise again.

In the meanwhile old Benson was having a terrific hand-to-hand encounter
with White Ox. Each had fired a shot at the other, and now they closed
in, the Indian chief with his hunting-knife and the old scout with his
clubbed rifle.

The struggle was as short as it was thrilling. Benson made a pass which
the Indian chief dodged. Then White Ox plunged his knife toward the old
scout's heart, but a quick turn made it catch in Benson's hunting-shirt.
Down came the rifle butt a second time, and the blow, catching White Ox
on the neck, forced him to his knees. Even then he struck at Benson's
legs, but the old scout leaped over his head. Then down came the rifle
butt once more, and the Indian chief gave a groan which was his last.

Fully sixty Indians and a score of desperadoes were now within the
stockade, and it looked as if all was lost to our friends. A part of the
regulars were fighting at the entrance to the stable, but the majority
were gathered around Captain Moore at the entrance to the officers'
quarters. Behind these were the ladies of the fort and the officers who
were sick.

"Perhaps we had better surrender," said Colonel Fairfield, when told by
his wife of the condition of affairs. "If we don't----" He could not
finish.

"Kill the white soldiers!" was the cry from the Indians. "White Ox has
fallen! They must all die! Spare nobody!"

Captain Moore was now fighting as never before. Beside him stood old
Benson, and not far away were Joe and Darry. Each of the number was
wounded, and hardly any of the regulars were better off. Ammunition was
running low. Still the horrible din continued, and the dust and smoke
were blinding.

But now, hark, what was that? From a distance sounded out a bugle call.
Then came a shot, followed by anoth