was leading on.

An hour later, with barely half the distance traversed, so steep and
rocky, so wild and winding, was the way, with the sun now tangent to
the distant range afar across the valley, they faintly heard a sound
that spurred them on--two shots in quick succession from unseen
depths below the lofty point. And now they took the Indian jog trot.
There was business ahead.

Between them and that gleaming promontory now lay a comparatively open
valley, less cumbered with bowlders than were the ridges and ravines
through which they had come, less obstructed, too, with stunted trees.
Here was opportunity for horsemen, hitherto denied, and Stout called
on Brewster and his score of troopers, who for hours had been towing
their tired steeds at the rear of column. "Mount and push ahead!" said
he. "You are Wren's own men. It is fitting you should get there
first."

"Won't the captain ride with us--now?" asked the nearest sergeant.

"Not if it robs a man of his mount," was the answer. Yet there was
longing in his eye and all men saw it. He had led them day after day,
trudging afoot, because his own lads could not ride. Indeed, there had
been few hours when any horse could safely bear a rider. There came
half a dozen offers now. "I'll tramp afoot if the captain 'll only
take my horse," said more than one man.

And so the captain was with them, as with darkness settling down they
neared the great cliff towering against the southeastward sky. Then
suddenly they realized they were guided thither only just in time to
raise a well-nigh fatal siege. Thundering down the mountain side a big
bowlder came tearing its way, launched from the very point that had
been the landmark of their eager coming, and with the downward
crashing of the rock there burst a yell of fury.

Midway up the steep incline, among the straggling timber, two lithe
young Indians were seen bounding out of a little gully, only just in
time to escape. Two or three others, farther aloft, darted around a
shoulder of cliff as though scurrying out of sight. From the edge of
the precipice the crack of a revolver was followed by a second, and
then by a scream. "Dismount!" cried Brewster, as he saw the captain
throw himself from his horse; then, leaving only two or three to
gather in their now excited steeds, snapping their carbines to full
cock, with blazing eyes and firm-set lips, the chosen band began their
final climb. "Don't bunch. Spread out right and left,"