ich had up to now remained fully a thousand
yards away, suddenly screeched and broke into a run directly toward the
dog-town.

There is an indescribable rush in a charge of savages. The little ponies
make their feet go so fast, the feathers and trappings of the warriors
stream behind so frantically, the whole attitude of horse and man is so
eager, that one gets an impression of fearful speed and resistless
power. The horizon seems full of Indians.

As if this were not sufficiently terrifying, the air is throbbing with
sound. Each Indian pops away for general results as he comes jumping
along, and yells shrilly to show what a big warrior he is, while
underneath it all is the hurried monotone of hoof-beats becoming ever
louder, as the roar of an increasing rainstorm on the roof. It does not
seem possible that anything can stop them.

Yet there is one thing that can stop them, if skilfully taken advantage
of, and that is their lack of discipline. An Indian will fight hard when
cornered, or when heated by lively resistance, but he hates to go into
it in cold blood. As he nears the opposing rifle, this feeling gets
stronger. So often a man with nerve enough to hold his fire, can break a
fierce charge merely by waiting until it is within fifty yards or so,
and then suddenly raising the muzzle of his gun. If he had gone to
shooting at once, the affair would have become a combat, and the Indians
would have ridden him down. As it is, each has had time to think. By the
time the white man is ready to shoot, the suspense has done its work.
Each savage knows that but one will fall, but, cold-blooded, he does not
want to be that one; and, since in such disciplined fighters it is each
for himself, he promptly ducks behind his mount and circles away to the
right or the left. The whole band swoops and divides, like a flock of
swift-winged terns on a windy day.

This Alfred relied on in the approaching crisis.

The girl watched the wild sweep of the warriors with strained eyes. She
had to grasp her wrist firmly to keep from fainting, and she seemed
incapable of thought. Alfred sat motionless on a dog-mound, his rifle
across his lap. He did not seem in the least disturbed.

"It's good to fight again," he murmured, gently fondling the stock of
his rifle. "Come on, ye devils! Oho!" he cried as a warrior's horse went
down in a dog-hole, "I thought so!"

His eyes began to shine.

The ponies came skipping here and there, nimbly dodgin