ie for you than live without you."

Such a glory glowed in her haggard face and shone from her brimming eyes.

"We will fight, we will fight!" she chanted. "Now I shall not leave you.
Oh, my man! Had you kissed me last night we would have known this longer.
We have so little time." She turned from my lips. "Not now. They're
coming. Fight first; and at the end, then kiss me, please, and we'll go
together."

The furious yells from that world outside vibrated among our rocks. The
Sioux all were in motion, except the prostrate figure of the chief.
Straight onward they charged, at headlong gallop, to ride over us like a
grotesquely tinted wave, and the dull drumming of their ponies' hoofs beat
a diapason to the shrill clamor of their voices. It was enough to cow, but
she spoke steadily.

"You must fire," she said. "Hurry! Fire once, maybe twice, to split them.
I don't think they'll rush us, yet."

So I rose farther on my knees and fired once--and again, pointblank at
them with the heavy Colt's. It worked a miracle. Every mother's son of
them fell flat upon his pony; they all swooped to right and to left as if
the bullets had cleaved them apart in the center; and while I gaped,
wondering, they swept past at long range, half on either flank, pelting in
bullet and near-spent arrow.

She forced me down.

"Low, low," she warned. "They'll circle. They hold their scalps dearly. We
can only wait. That was three. You have fifteen shots left, for them;
then, one for me, one for you. You understand?"

"I understand," I replied. "And if I'm disabled----?"

She answered quietly.

"It will be the same. One for you, one for me."

The circle had been formed: a double circle, to move in two directions,
scudding ring reversed within scudding ring, the bowmen outermost. Around
and 'round and 'round they galloped, yelling, gibing, taunting, shooting
so malignantly that the air was in a constant hum and swish. The lead
whined and smacked, the shafts streaked and clattered----

"Are you sorry I shot the chief?" I asked. Amid the confusion my blood was
coursing evenly, and I was not afraid. Of what avail was fear?

"I'm glad, glad," she proclaimed. But with sudden movement she was gone,
bending low, then crawling, then whisking from sight. Had she abandoned
me, after all? Had she--no! God be thanked, here she came back, flushed
and triumphant, a canteen in her hand.

"The mules might break," she explained, short of breath. "This ca