ted with his wife by Jake's bedside, half a dozen
troopers, two of them wounded and all with worn-out horses, came
drifting back to camp. Twice, said they, had the fleeing Indians made a
stand to cover the slow retreat of one or two evidently sorely stricken,
but so closely were they pressed that at last they had been forced to
abandon one of their number, who died, sending his last vengeful shot
through the lieutenant's hunting shirt, yet only grazing the skin. Dean,
with most of the men, pushed on in pursuit, determined never to desist
so long as there was light, but these who returned could not keep up.

Leaving the dead body of the young brave where it lay among the rocks,
they slowly journeyed back to camp. No further tidings came, and at
daybreak Folsom, with two ranchmen and a trooper, rode out on the trail
to round up the horses the Indians had been compelled to drop. Mrs. Hal
clung sobbing to him, unable to control her fears, but he chided her
gently and bade her see that Jake lacked no care or comfort. The brave
fellow was sore and feverish, but in no great danger now. Five miles out
in the foothills they came upon the horses wandering placidly back to
the valley, but Folsom kept on. Four miles further he and a single
ranchman with him came upon three troopers limping along afoot, their
horses killed in the running fight, and one of these, grateful for a
long pull at Folsom's flask, turned back and showed them the body of the
fallen brave. One look was enough for Hal and the comrade with him.
"Don't let my wife know--who it was," he had muttered to his friend. "It
would only make her more nervous." There lay Chaska, Lizette's eldest
brother, and well Hal Folsom knew _that_ death would never go unavenged.

"If ever a time comes when I can do you a good turn, lieutenant," said
he that afternoon as, worn out with long hours of pursuit and scout, the
troop was encountered slowly marching back to the Laramie, "I'll do it
if it costs me the whole ranch." But Dean smiled and said they wouldn't'
have missed that chance even for the ranch. What a blessed piece of luck
it was that the commanding officer at Frayne had bidden him take that
route instead of the direct road to Gate City! He had sent men riding in
to both posts on the Platte, with penciled lines telling of the Indian
raid and its results. Once well covered by darkness the little band had
easily escaped their pursuers, and were now safe across the river and
w