nds the
publication of extras. Some of them never hear or heed the cry, "Indian
Massacree!" "Here y'are! All about the killin' of Major Thornton an' his
sojers!" "Extry!--extry!" It is not until they reach the broad portals
of the great Stewart of the West that one of their number, half
incredulously, buys a copy and reads aloud: "Major Thornton, ----th
Infantry, Captain Langham and Lieutenant Bliss, ----th Cavalry, and
thirty men, are killed. Captains Wright and Lane and Lieutenants Willard
and Brooks, ----th Cavalry, and some forty more men, are seriously
wounded. The rest of the command is corralled by an overwhelming force
of Indians, and their only hope is to hold out until help can reach
them. All troops along the line of the Union Pacific are already under
orders."

"Oh, isn't it dreadful?"

"Yes; but aren't you glad it wasn't Ours? Oh, look! there's Nina
Beaubien over there in her carriage. _Do_ let's find out if she's going
to lead with Rollins!"

_Vae victis_! Far out in the glorious Park country in the heart of the
Centennial State a little band of blue-coats, sent to succor a perilled
agent, is making desperate stand against fearful odds. Less than two
hundred men has the wisdom of the Department sent forth through the
wilderness to find and, if need be, fight its way through five times its
weight in well-armed foes. The officers and men have no special quarrel
with those Indians, nor the Indians with them. Only two winters before,
when those same Indians were sick and starving, and their lying
go-betweens, the Bureau-employees, would give them neither food nor
justice, a small band made their way to the railway and were fed on
soldier food and their wrongs righted by soldier justice. But another
snarl has come now, and this time the Bureau-people are in a pickle, and
the army--ever between two fires at least, and thankful when it isn't
six--is ordered to send a little force and go out there and help the
agent maintain his authority. The very night before the column reaches
the borders of the reservation the leading chiefs come in camp to
interview the officers, shake hands, beg tobacco, and try on their
clothes, then go back to their braves and laugh as they tell there are
only a handful, and plan the morrow's ambuscade and massacre. _Vae
victis_! There are women and children among the garrisons along the
Union Pacific whose hearts have little room for thoughts of germans in
the horror of this morning's