e, instead of the one man they had
seen, was a horde!

Once more, though after brave effort, it was Marylyn who compelled a
halt. Dallas strove to rouse her. "Try a little longer, honey. Come on,
come on." But the other only sobbed hysterically, until Charley put his
hand upon her mouth.

"Can't we crawl out?" demanded Dallas. "Quick, they'll pass."

The Squaw shook his head, coming close that she might see his answer.

"No use?"

He shook his head again and signed that their pursuers had horses.

It was a moment of supreme despair. She laid her arms upon her knees,
her face upon her arms. Their puny human power had failed. Where else
could they look for succour? Would Lounsbury or the troopers come--in
time?

Then, tearfully, prayerfully, in this utmost need, she raised her eyes
to the sky. "It's not for me," she faltered; "it's for Marylyn."

That upward glance was not in vain. In front of her, lifting their
plume-like tops against the heavens, she saw the clump of burial trees.
Instantly she took heart, for her quick brain devised a plan--to hide in
the cottonwoods!

But all three might not stay, for, however much the Sioux avoided the
laden boughs, they would stop to search them if there were not those
ahead to draw them past. And _one_ of those ahead must be a woman.

So she decided. Bending to her sister, she lifted her to a sitting
position. "Honey," she said firmly, "you see the big trees there? The
Indians are afraid of 'em--remember? They'll go by. We'll put you up on
a limb, and you keep quiet. You'll be safe. We'll go on--for help."

"Yes--yes--Dallas, only--I can't walk."

"Charley!" The elder girl bade him assist. Without understanding fully,
he obeyed. Together they carried Marylyn toward the cottonwoods, out of
which several lank, grey bodies shifted into view and shot away. Dallas
chose a tree that grew close to the steep bank. Here, in the narrow
space between trunk and rooty wall, she ordered Charley to get down on
all fours. Then, taking Marylyn upon her shoulders as before, and
steadying herself with both hands, she stood on The Squaw's back. Little
by little, bracing with legs and arms, he raised his load. Marylyn was
now below a thick branch. By reaching up, and summoning the remnant of
her strength, she was able to clasp it, to put a foot over, to get
astride.

"Lie down," continued Dallas; "they won't stop; don't speak."

Hurriedly, she and Charley resumed their way up the wolf-