d then they
couldn't have spotted us. Now it's too late. Run back, corporal, and
warn the captain. I'll stay here and watch them."

Connor speeds briskly down the slope, and, even as they see him coming,
the men lead their horses into line. Captain Terry has one foot in the
stirrup as the non-commissioned officer reaches him and his hand goes
up in salute.

"Lieutenant McLean's compliments, sir" (the invariable formula in
garrison, and not omitted in the field by soldiers as precise as the
corporal). "Three or four bucks are galloping over to the river above
us to look for our tracks."

"How far above us, corporal?"

"Nigh on to a mile, sir."

"Sergeant Wallace, stay here with the platoon. Mount, you six men on
the right, and come after me as quick as you can!" And away goes
Captain Terry, full speed up the valley and heading close under the
bluffs. In a minute three of the designated troopers are in a bunch at
his heels, the other three scattered along the trail. From McLean's
post he can see both parties in the gathering light,--the Indians,
slowly and cautiously now, beginning the ascent to the bluffs, the
captain and his men "speeding it" to get first to the scene. Another
moment, and he sees Terry spring from his horse, throw the reins to a
trooper, and run crouching up toward the crest; then, on hands and
knees, peep cautiously over, removing his hat as he does so. Then he
signals "forward" to his men, slides backward a yard or two, runs to
his horse, mounts, gallops some four hundred yards farther along the
foot of the slope, then turns, rides half-way up, and then he and four
of the men leap from their saddles, toss their reins to the two who
remain mounted, and, carbine in hand, run nimbly up the bluffs and
throw themselves prone upon the turf, almost at the top. Not two
hundred yards away from them four Sioux warriors, with trailing
war-bonnets and brilliant display of paint and glitter, are "opening
out" as they approach, and warily moving toward the summit. One instant
more and there is a sudden flash of fire-arms at the crest; five jets
of bluish smoke puff out upon the rising breeze; five sputtering
reports come sailing down the wind a few seconds later; and, while two
of the warriors go whirling off in a wide, sweeping circle, the other
two are victims to their own unusual recklessness. One of them,
clinging desperately to the high pommel, but reeling in his saddle,
urges his willing pony down the