und and switched about, and up on
the crest, riding boldly in full view, two lithe, naked, painted
warriors, war bonnets trailing over their ponies' croups, yelling shrill
insult and derision, went tearing away northward, one of them pausing
long enough to wave some ragged object on high, and give one ringing,
exultant whoop ere he disappeared from view.

"It's a scalp, lieutenant," shouted the foremost sergeant as he came
lunging up to join his chief. "They've got one, anyhow."

"Come on, then, and we'll get it back," was the only answer, as with
nearly thirty troopers stringing out behind them, the two launched out
in chase.

CHAPTER VIII.

Obedient to his orders the Irish sergeant, with a little squad at his
heels, had kept straight on. A few minutes later, rounding the bluff at
the gallop, eyes flashing over the field in front of them, the party
went racing out over the turf and came in full view of the scene of the
fight. Five hundred yards further down stream was a deep bend in the
Laramie. Close to the water's edge two horses lay stretched upon the
ground, stone dead. Out on the open prairie lay an Indian pony still
kicking in his dying agony, and as the soldiers came sweeping into view
two men rose up from behind the low bank of the stream and swung their
hats--Hal Folsom and one of his hands safe, unwounded, yet with a look
in their gray faces that told of recent mortal peril.

"We're all right! Go on after them. They've run off a dozen of my best
horses," said Folsom, "and I'm afraid they cut off Jake."

"No! Jake reached the ranch all right--leastwise somebody did," said
Shaughnessy. "That's how we got the news. They got somebody, or else
they were only bluffing when they waved that scalp. How many were
there?"

"At least a dozen--too many for you to tackle. Where's the rest of the
troop?"

"Close at their heels. The lieutenant led them right over the ridge.
Listen!"

Yes, far up in the foothills, faint and clear, the sounds of the chase
could now be heard. Dean's men were closing on the fleeing warriors, for
every little while the silence of the range was broken by the crack of
rifle or carbine. Shaughnessy's fellows began to fidget and look eagerly
thither, and he read their wish. "Two of you stay with Mr. Folsom," he
said, "and the rest come with me. There's nothing we can do here, is
there? Sure, you're not hit?"

"No, go on! Give 'em hell and get back my horses. I'd go with you, but