rained them from open violence but their knowledge of
that stern-faced swarthy soldier who fronted them with such dauntless
courage. Hundreds in that swarm had seen him before, when, as the
adopted son of a great war-chief of the Miamis he had been at their
side in many a wild foray along the border.

"Wau-mee-nuk, the white chief," passed from lip to lip; and sullenly,
slowly, reluctantly, the frenzied red circle fell back, as he pressed
his rearing horse full against them.

How hideous their painted faces looked, as we slowly pushed past them,
their lips shrieking insult, their sinewy hands gripping at our
stirrups, their brandished weapons shaken in our faces. With firm-set
lips and watchful eyes I rode, bent well forward, so as best to protect
the girl, my rifle held across my saddle pommel. Twice some vengeful
arm struck me a savage blow, and once a young devil with long matted
hair hanging over his fierce eyes thrust a sharpened stake viciously at
the girl's face. I struck with quick-clinched hand, and he reeled back
into the mass with a sharp cry of pain. My eyes caught the sudden
dazzle, as De Croix whipped out his rapier.

"Not that, Monsieur!" I cried hastily, across her horse's neck. "Use
the hilt, not the blade, unless you wish to die."

He heard me above the clamor, and with a quick turn of the weapon
struck fiercely at a scowling brave who grasped at his horse's rein.
He smiled pleasantly across at me, his fingers twisting his small
mustache.

"'T is doubtless good advice, friend Wayland," he said, carelessly,
"but these copper-colored devils are indeed most annoying upon this
side, and I may lose my temper ere we reach the gate."

"For the sake of her who rides between us, I beg that you hold in hard,
Monsieur," I answered. "'T would be overmuch to pay, I imagine, for a
hot brain."

I glanced at her as I spoke, scarcely conscious even then that I had
removed my eyes from the threatening mob that pressed me, though I know
I must have done so, for I retain the picture of her yet. She rode
facing me, although her saddle was of the old army type with merely a
folded blanket to soften its sharp contours, and her foot could barely
find firm support within the narrow strap above the wooden stirrup.
She sat erect and easily, swaying gently to the slow step of the horse.
Her face was pale, but there was no evidence of timidity in her dark
eyes, and she smiled at me as our glances met.

"You are s