summer sun, brightened by no vegetation, excepting sparse bunches of
buffalo grass or an occasional stunted sage bush, and disclosing nowhere
slightest sign of human habitation.

The rising sun reddened the crest of the hills, and the rider, halting
his willing horse, sat motionless, gazing steadily into the southwest.
Apparently he perceived nothing there unusual, for he slowly turned his
body about in the saddle, sweeping his eyes, inch by inch, along the
line of the horizon, until the entire circuit had been completed. Then
his compressed lips smiled slightly, his hand unconsciously patting the
horse's neck.

"I reckon we're still alone, old girl," he said quietly, a bit of
Southern drawl in the voice. "We'll try for the trail, and take it
easy."

He swung stiffly out of the saddle, and with reins dangling over his
shoulder, began the slower advance on foot, the exhausted horse trailing
behind. His was not a situation in which one could feel certain of
safety, for any ridge might conceal the wary foemen he sought to avoid,
yet he proceeded now with renewed confidence. It was the Summer of 1868,
and the place the very heart of the Indian country, with every separate
tribe ranging between the Yellowstone and the Brazos, either restless
or openly on the war-path. Rumors of atrocities were being retold the
length and breadth of the border, and every report drifting in to either
fort or settlement only added to the alarm. For once at least the Plains
Indians had discovered a common cause, tribal differences had been
adjusted in war against the white invader, and Kiowas, Comanches,
Arapahoes, Cheyennes, and Sioux, had become welded together in savage
brotherhood. To oppose them were the scattered and unorganized settlers
lining the more eastern streams, guarded by small detachments of regular
troops posted here and there amid that broad wilderness, scarcely within
touch of each other.

Everywhere beyond these lines of patrol wandered roaming war parties,
attacking travellers on the trails, raiding exposed settlements, and
occasionally venturing to try open battle with the small squads of armed
men. In this stress of sudden emergency--every available soldier on
active duty--civilians had been pressed into service, and hastily
despatched to warn exposed settlers, guide wagon trains, or carry
despatches between outposts. And thus our rider, Jack Keith, who knew
every foot of the plains lying between the Republican and th