ommon life of the morning. He listened with the
utmost attention, and heard it again. He had heard the same
sound on the terrible day when Custer galloped into the
valley--the mellow, pealing note of a trumpet, but now very
faint and far.

"They're coming!" he said to Sergeant Williams joyfully. "I hear
the sound of a trumpet out on the plain!"

"I don't," said the sergeant. "It's your hopes that are
deceivin' you. No, by Jove, I think I do hear it! Yes, there it
is! They're comin'! They're comin'!"

The whole camp burst into a joyous cheer, and although they did
not hear the trumpet again for some time, the belief that help
was at hand became a certainty when they saw hurried movements
among the Sioux in the valley and the sudden upspringing of
flames at many points.

"They're goin' to retreat," said the veteran Sergeant Williams,
"an' they're burnin' their village behind 'em."

A little later the army of Gibbon, with infantry and artillery,
showed over the plain, and was welcomed with cheers that came
from the heart. Uniting with the commands on the fortified
bluff, Gibbon now had a powerful force, and he advanced
cautiously into the valley of the Little Big Horn and directly
upon the Indian village. But the Sioux were gone northward,
taking with them their arms, ammunition, and all movable
equipment, and the lodges that they left behind were burning.

Dick led the force to the field of battle, and all his terrible
story was confirmed. There were hundreds of brave men, Custer
and every one of his officers among them, lay, most of them
mutilated, but all with their backs to the earth.

The army spent the day burying the dead, and then began the
pursuit of the Sioux. Dick and Albert went with them, fighting
as scouts and skirmishers. They were willing, for the present,
to let their furs remain hidden in their lost valley until they
could gain a more definite idea of its location, and until the
dangerous Sioux were driven far to the northward.

As the armies grew larger the Sioux forces, despite the skill and
courage of their leaders, were continually beaten. Their great
victory on the Little Big Horn availed them nothing. It became
evident that the last of the chiefs--and to Dick and Albert this
was Bright Sun--had made the last stand for his race, and had
failed.

"They were doomed the day the first white man landed in America,"
said Dick to Albert, "and nothing could save them."

"I supp