l
them. They have all read, or heard, of arrows with tinder tied around
their barbs, on fire and spitting sparks, or brightly ablaze.

If any are ignorant of this sort of missile, or the mode of dispatching
it on its mischievous errand, their ignorance is not destined longer to
continue. Almost as soon as Wilder has given utterance to the warning
words, half a score of the savages can be seen springing to the backs of
their horses, each bearing a bow with a bunch of the prepared arrows.
And before a single preventive step can be taken by the besieged
traders, or any counsel exchanged between them, the pyrotechnic display
has commenced.

The bowmen gallop in circles around the besieged enclosure, their bodies
concealed behind those of their horses--only a leg and an arm seen, or
now and then a face for an instant, soon withdrawn. Not exactly in
circles but in spiral rings--at each turn drawing closer and nearer,
till the true distance is attained for casting the inflammatory shafts.

"Stand to your guns, men!" is the hurried command of the guide, backed
by a kind of encouragement from the proprietor of the caravan.

"Now, boys!" adds the guide, "ye've got to look out for squalls. Keep
two an' two of ye thegither. While one brings down the hoss, t' other
take care o' the rider as he gits unkivered. Make sure afore ye pull
trigger, an' don't waste so much as the snappin' o' a cap. Thar goes
the first o' the fire works!"

As Wilder speaks, a spark is seen to shoot out from one of the circling
cavaliers, which rising rocket-like into the air, comes in parabolic
curve towards the corral.

It falls short some twenty yards and lies smoking and sputtering in the
sand.

"They han't got thar range yit," cries the guide; "but this child hez
got his--leastwise for that skunk on the clay-bank mustang. So hyar
goes to rub him off o' the list o' fire shooters."

And simultaneous with the last word is heard the crack of Wilder's
rifle.

The young prairie merchant by his side, supposing him to have aimed only
at the Indian's horse, has raised his own gun, ready to take the rider
as soon as uncovered.

"No need, Frank," shouts the guide, restraining him. "Walt Wilder don't
waste two charges o' powder that way. Keep yur bullet for the karkidge
o' the next as comes 'ithin range. Look yonder! I know'd I'd fetch him
out o' his stirrups--tight as he's tried to cling to 'em. Thar he goes
to grass!"

Hamersley, as the