they've killed what horses they couldn't drive. All safe at the ranch?"

Shaughnessy nodded as he spurred away. "We'll be gettin' the lieutenant
a brevet for this," said he, "if we can only close up with those
blackguards." And these were the words Folsom carried back with him, as,
mounting a willing trooper's horse, he galloped homeward to reassure his
wife, thanking God for the opportune coming of the little command, yet
swearing with close compressed lips at the ill-starred work of the day.
Thus far he had striven to keep from her all knowledge of the threats of
the Ogallallas, although he knew she must have heard of them. He had
believed himself secure so far back from the Platte. He had done
everything in his power to placate Red Cloud and the chiefs--to convince
his former friends that he had never enticed poor Lizette, as Baptiste
had called the child, from her home and people. They held he should
never have left her, though she had accused him of no wrong. Burning
Star, in his jealous rage, hated him, because he believed that but for
love of the paleface Lizette would have listened to his wooing, and
Folsom's conscience could not acquit him of having seen her preference
and of leading her on. He could not speak of her to his wife without
shame and remorse. He had no idea what could have been her fate, for the
poor girl had disappeared from the face of the earth, and now, at last,
this day had proved to him the threats of her lover and her brothers
were not idle. He had had so narrow a squeak for his life, so sharp and
sudden and hard a fight for it that, now that the peril was over, his
nerve began to give way, his strong hands to tremble. Armed with
breech-loaders, he and his two friends had been able to stand off the
attacking party, killing two ponies, and emptying, they felt sure, two
saddles; but little by little the Indians were working around their
position, and would have crawled upon them within an hour or two but for
Jake's daring ride for help and the blessed coming of the blue-coats in
the nick of time. Folsom swore he'd never forget their services this
day.

And as he cantered homeward he could still hear the distant firing dying
away in the mountains to the north. "Give 'em hell, Dean!" he muttered
through his set teeth. "They're showing fight even when you've got 'em
on the run. I wonder what that means?"

Not until another day was he to know. Late on the evening of the attack,
while he was sea