oden
fortification, and, when next it hove in view, it was galloping front
into line far down the Laramie, then once more vanished behind its
curtain of dust.

"Two miles out there under the butte," was the only indication the young
officer had of the scene of the fight, for fight he knew it must be, and
even as he went bounding down the valley he recalled the story of the
Indian girl, the threats of Burning Star, the vowed vengeance of her
brothers. Could it be that, taking advantage of this raid of Red Cloud,
far from all the reservations, far from possibility of detection by
count of prying agents, the three had induced a gang of daring,
devil-may-care young warriors to slip away from the Big Horn with them
and, riding stealthily away from the beaten trails, to ford the Platte
beyond the ken of watchful eyes at Frayne and sneak through the mountain
range to the beautiful, fertile valley beyond, and there lie in wait for
Hal Folsom or for those he loved? What was to prevent? Well they knew
the exact location of his ranch. They had fished and sported all about
it in boy days--days when the soldiers and the Sioux were all good
friends, days before the mistaken policy of a post commander had led to
an attack upon a peaceful band, and that to the annihilation of the
attacking party. From that fatal day of the Grattan massacre ten years
before, there had been no real truce with the Sioux, and now was
opportunity afforded for a long-plotted revenge. Dean wondered Folsom
had not looked for it instead of sleeping in fancied security.

A mile nearer the butte and, glancing back, he could see his faithful
men come bounding in his tracks. A mile ahead, rising abruptly from the
general level, a little knoll or butte jutted out beyond the shoulders
of the foothills and stood sentinel within three hundred yards of the
stream. On the near--the westward--side, nothing could be seen of horse
or man. Something told him he would find the combatants beyond--that
dead or alive, Hal Folsom would be there awaiting him. A glance at the
commanding height and the ridge that connected it with the tumbling,
wooded hills to the north, convinced him that at this moment some of the
foe were lurking there, watching the westward valley, and by this time
they knew full well of the coming of the cavalry to the rescue. By this
time, more than likely, they were scurrying off to the mountains again,
returning the way they came, with a start of at least t