ng two or three of their
number trying to restore consciousness to the stricken chief, and a
dozen, Folsom's advocates among them, to hold possession of the ranch,
away scurried most of the warriors at top speed to the aid of their
outlying scouts.

Meantime, under cover of the fierce argument, Jake and Lannion had
managed to crawl back within the building. Folsom himself, in such calm
as he could command, stood silent while his captors wrangled. The
warriors who pleaded for him were Standing Elk, a sub chief of note,
whose long attachment to Folsom was based on kindnesses shown him when a
young man, the other was Young-Shows-the-Road, son of a chief who had
guided more than one party of whites through the lands of the Sioux
before the bitterness of war arose between the races. They had loved
Folsom for years and would not desert him now in the face of popular
clamor. Yet even their influence would have failed but for the sound
that told of hotter conflict still among the foothills along the
opposite side of the valley. With straining ears, Folsom listened, hope
and fear alternating in his breast. The mingling yells and volleying
told that the issue was in doubt. Man after man of his captors galloped
away until not half a dozen were left. Now, Jake and Lannion could have
shot them down and borne him within, but to what good? Escape from the
ranch itself was impossible! Such action would only intensify the Indian
hate and make more horrible the Indian vengeance. For twenty minutes the
clamor continued, then seemed to die gradually away, and, with fury in
their faces, back at full gallop came a dozen of the braves. One glance
was enough. They had penned their foe among the rocks, but not without
the loss of several at least of their band, for the foremost rode with
brandished war-club straight at Folsom, and despite the leap of his two
champions to save, felled the old trader with one stunning blow, then
gave the savage order to burn the ranch.

By this time the sun was just peering into the valley. The smoke and
flame from the corral were dying or drifting away. Eagerly half a dozen
young braves rushed for faggots and kindling with which to do his
bidding, and a cry of despair went up from within the walls. Recklessly
now Lannion and his comrade opened fire from the loopholes and shot down
two of the dancing furies without, sending every other Indian to the
nearest cover. But the arrows that came whistling speedily were