anse of lone,
weird country stood forth clean cut. No moving object could escape notice
in this watchful void. And we had been just in time. The slight knoll had
been left not a mile to the southwest. I heard My Lady catch breath, felt
her hand find mine as we lay almost touching. Rounding the knoll there
appeared a file of mounted figures; by their robes and blankets, their
tufted lances and gaudy shields, yes, by the very way they sat their
painted ponies, Indians unmistakably.

"They must have been camped near us all night." And she shuddered. "Now if
they only don't cross our trail. We mustn't move."

They came on at a canter, riding bravely, glancing right and left--a score
of them headed by a scarlet-blanketed man upon a spotted horse. So
transparent was the air, washed by the fog and vivified by the sun, that I
could decipher the color pattern of his shield emblazonry: a checkerboard
of red and black.

"A war party. Sioux, I think," she said. "Don't they carry scalps on that
first lance? They've been raiding the stage line. Do you see any squaws?"

"No," I hazarded, with beating heart. "All warriors, I should guess."

"All warriors. But squaws would be worse."

On they cantered, until their paint stripes and daubs were hideously
plain; we might note every detail of their savage muster. They were
paralleling our outward course; indeed, seemed to be diverging from our
ambush and making more to the west. And I had hopes that, after all, we
were safe. Then her hand clutched mine firmly. A wolf had leaped from
covert in the path of the file; loped eastward across the desert, and
instantly, with a whoop that echoed upon us like the crack of doom, a
young fellow darted from the line in gay pursuit.

My Lady drew quick breath, with despairing exclamation.

"That is cruel, cruel! They might have ridden past; but now--look!"

The stripling warrior (he appeared to be scarcely more than a boy)
hammered in chase, stringing his bow and plucking arrow. The wolf cast eye
over plunging shoulder, and lengthened. Away they tore, while the file
slackened, to watch. Our trail of flight bore right athwart the wolf's
projected route. There was just the remote chance that the lad would
overrun it, in his eagerness; and for that intervening moment of grace we
stared, fascinated, hand clasping hand.

"He's found it! He's found it!" she announced, in a little wail.

In mid-career the boy had checked his pony so shortly that the