mebody is
vexing them down the Laramie."

Bounding up the steps, the veteran was almost back at his post upon the
porch when there came a sound that seemed to give the lie to his last
words and that froze the hope that had risen in his breast--the sudden
rumble and thunder of at least two hundred hoofs, the charging yell of
an Indian band, the sputter and bang of rifles close at hand, and then a
rush of feet, as, with faces agonized by fear, three of the men came
darting within. "It's all up! There's a million Indians!" they cried.
Two of the demoralized fellows plunged into the passage that led to the
cellar. One burst into childish wailing and clung to Folsom's knees.

"Let go, you coward!" yelled the old man in fury, as he kicked himself
loose, then went bounding out upon the porch. God, what a sight!
Sweeping up the gentle slope, brandishing rifles and lances and
war-clubs, racing for their hapless prey, came fifty Ogallallas, Burning
Star among the leaders. Bullets could not stop them now. The two men who
had stood to their posts knelt grim and desperate, and Lannion's last
shot took effect. Within fifty yards of the walls Burning Star's rushing
pony went down on his nose, and in the fury of his pace, turned sudden
and complete somersault, crushing his red rider under him, and
stretching him senseless on the turf. An inspiration, almost God given,
seemed to flash upon the old trader at the instant. Bareheaded, in his
shirt sleeves, throwing upward and forward his empty hands, he sprang
out as though to meet and rebuke his assailants. "Hold!" he cried, in
the tongue he knew so well "Are my brothers crazed? Look! I am no enemy
It is your friend! It is old John!" And even in the rage of their
charge, many Indians at sight of him veered to right and left; many
reined up short within ten paces of the unarmed man; two sprang from
their ponies and threw themselves between him and their brethren,
shouting to be heard. And then in the midst of furious discussion, some
Indians crying out for the blood of all at the ranch in revenge for
Chaska, some demanding instant surrender of every woman there in
expiation for Lizette, some urging that old John be given respectful
hearing, but held prisoner, there came lashing into their midst a young
brave, crying aloud and pointing down the now well-lighted valley where,
darting about a mile away, a few Indians were evidently striving to head
off the coming of some hostile force. Leavi