and thrown out. He galloped away and came back with
Gamble, a man they dare not let live, once having learned their secret.
Both Little Crow and he were treacherously shot by the partners as they
were riding to warn George Sword and his police. Then came the swift
vengeance of the Sioux, the flight of Hurley and Gross, leaving their
unwary comrades to an awful fate. While one party of Indians made way
with the wagon, in hopes of running it--horses, contents, and all--to
the camp of Si Tanka, another party, the immediate relatives and
friends of Little Crow, rode off with the two captives to the village
where Little Crow lay dying, and finally, fearing interruption there,
came back to the valley by night for the wildest, most delirious orgy
known to Indian tradition--the slow doing to death of captured enemy by
ingenious and horrible torture.

And this was the indescribable ceremony nipped in the bud by our young
lieutenant and his twoscore men, to whose energy, courage, and skill
Major Berry gave all credit, though Garrett claimed it "in the name of
my troop."

All night had they faced a furious and clamorous band--chiefs,
warriors, and women--shouting denunciation, demanding their prey, and
threatening attack in tremendous force. But Geordie had posted his men
for battle, hidden the recaptured under the bank, and dared the whole
band to come on and get them, if they thought it advisable, which, it
seems, they did not. With his patients on Indian _travois_ ("borrowed,"
ponies and all, perhaps without ceremony, from the supply on the spot),
Graham slowly retraced his steps the following morning, and was met
half-way in by the squadron in force, the heartiest kind of a welcome,
and news that thrilled through his veins like the sound of the charge.

"The --th and your own troop are camped south of the line, Mr. Graham.
I have orders for you to go in to-morrow."

Just so soon, therefore, as he could turn over his patients to the care
of the surgeon, write his brief report of the scout, and say good-bye
and a few words of thanks to Sergeant Drum and his fellows, who longed
to tell him how they hated to let him go, and after hearty handshakes
from Berry and his brother officers ("Samson" Stone taking special
credit to himself for having, as he expressed it, "put Graham and
Connell onto the time of their lives"), our Geordie blushingly bade
farewell to these comrades of a strenuous month, and, with faithful
Connell at his