A lithe, naked form
leaped into sight just at the entrance and then went crashing down into
the blazing embers below. Another Indian gone. Bang! bang! bang! Heavier
came the uproar of the shots below. Bang! bang! "Good God!" groaned
Pike. "Has the whole Apache nation come to reinforce them? Yell, you
hounds--aye--yell! There are only two of us!" Shots came ringing thick
and fast. Yells resounded along the mountain side, but they seemed more
of warning than of hatred and defiance. Bang! bang! bang! the rifles
rattled up the rocky slopes, but where could the bullets go? Not one had
struck in the cave for fully ten seconds, yet the rattle and roar of
musketry seemed redoubled. What can it mean? Pike creeps still further
forward to get a shot at the first Indian that shows himself, but pain
and weakness are dimming the sight of his keen, brave eyes; perhaps
telling on his hearing. Listen, man! Listen! Those are not Indian yells
now resounding down the rocks. Listen, Pike, old friend, old soldier,
old hero! Too late--too late! Just as a ringing trumpet call, "Cease
firing," comes thrilling up the steep, and little Ned once more leaps
forward to aid him, the veteran falls upon his face and all is darkness.

Another moment, and now the very hillside seems to burst into shouts and
cheers,--joy, triumph, infinite relief. Victory shines on face after
face as the bronzed troopers come crowding to the mouth of the cave.
Tenderly they raise Pike from the ground and bear him out into the
sunshine. Respectfully they make way for Captain Turner as he springs
into their midst and clasps little Nellie in his arms; and poor old
Kate, laughing, weeping and showering blessings on "the boys," is
frantically shaking hands with man after man. So, too, is Black Jim. And
then, half carried, half led, by two stalwart soldiers, Captain Gwynne
is borne, trembling like an aspen, into their midst, and, kneeling on
the rocky floor, clasps his little ones to his breast, and the strong
man sobs aloud his thanks to God for their wonderful preservation.

* * * * *

"Papa--papa, I shot an Indian!" How many a time little Ned has to shout
it, in his eager young voice, before the father can realize what is
being said.

"It's the truth he's telling, sir," said a big sergeant. "There's wan of
'em lies at the corner there with a hole no bigger than a _pay_ under
the right eye," and the captain knows not what to say. The surgeon