and dodging,
his right arm dangling and bloody. "I had to leave the
horses--couldn't hold 'em."

A moment more, and twenty-five of the Indians charged straight through
the ravine, below, and up again; they were waving their blankets and
yelling, and took five of the horses with them. It was done in a
jiffy. Lead rained in, searching the ravine slope where the six white
men were lying.

"This is no place," panted Scout Chapman. "We'll all be dead, without
a chance. The open is better, where we can see around. Come on,
everybody."

"As skirmishers, men. Keep together and keep low," Sergeant Woodall
ordered.

Out they lunged, into the very face of the enemy. The Indians gave way
before but closed in behind.

"Fall back, fall back! Steady, now. Hold your intervals," Sergeant
Woodall warned. "We'll try for shelter beyond. Mebbe we can make
Gageby Creek. Don't waste a shot, but shoot to kill."

The sixth horse had followed them. Good old Baldy! An Indian dashed
for him--Sergeant Woodall took quick aim and the pony scoured off, its
saddle-pad empty. But Baldy whirled and was lost.

The short, thin line--four soldiers, two scouts--knelt, fired, ducked
and ran a few steps, knelt and fired again. The Indians (there were
one hundred and fifty) formed their circle; skimming around and around,
shooting and whooping. Wherever the squad looked, they saw Indians.
And they saw never a token of shelter: all the vast prairie was a sea
of grass, unbroken by a tree. In spots the grass grew saddle high, but
that was covert for the enemy too. When the squad halted, to rest, the
Indians dismounted and commenced to crawl closer, through the grass.
Then the six men had to jump up, and run on, shouting and firing. The
Indians before leaped upon their horses again, and opened out; the
Indians behind were afraid to shoot, for fear of killing their comrades
opposite; but the Indians on either side pelted with bullets and arrows.

"None of us ever expected to get out alive," says Private Harrington.
"We all determined to die hard and make the best fight possible."

The circling Indians charged to within twenty-five yards. Hanging
almost under their ponies' bellies they shot from there, while those
farther out daringly stood erect upon their saddles like circus riders
and also fired at full speed; then racing in closer they swung low and
fired again. Wherever the six men faced, before, behind, right, left,
there the