so she
could not steady it. The laughing one looked through it, and laughed no
more.

"I see a head over the mound there," she said.

The pale woman shrieked.

"They are miles away. We may have time."

"For what?"

"To get away."

"They may be friends--"

"They are Indians! White men would not live through that sand. We must
go to the woods. Help me. Warn the women. Gather the children. Come."

She rushed into her house. The other still stood and looked.

The dust cloud was a little nearer. In a moment all was wild confusion,
names were called, but not loudly, girls sobbed, some carried their
little treasures, mothers held their children. All gathered together,
hidden from the plain by a house.

The pale woman led out her father, then ran to her neighbor's door. She
opened it, and called clearly, but softly, "Mary, Mary." There was
no answer. The woman in black, on her bed, slept on. Her neighbor
hesitated, then hurried after the others, as they ran up the low hills
toward the mountains, where their men had gone.

The dust cloud grew nearer. Now and then a head could be seen. But all
was as still as the grave. The woman in black slept heavily and dreamed
that revenge had come at last--that in her hand she held an Indian's
head.

The window-shade flapped loudly, and she woke with an apprehension
crushing her. She went to the window and looked out. There was no
blowing dust upon the plains, and the street was empty. The doors of
the houses stood open; a shawl lay in the middle of the road. The woman
leaned out and looked toward the woods.

She saw on the crest of a hill the white skirts of the flying women, and
then, below, down the road, her ears sharpened, her heart tightening,
she heard the soft, regular thumping of horses' feet.

Then she _knew_.

She sat on the edge of the bed. This was what she had waited for! Was it
her turn now?--or theirs again?

She could kill _one_.

Where was her gun?

She had loaned it to the men.

But her axe--that was below.

As she started for it, there was a burst of war cries.

She ran down the narrow stairs, and took the axe from its place on the
wall.

They were passing her door. The room grew lighter. She turned. One stood
in the open doorway, black against the sunshine. She set her teeth hard,
hid the axe behind her skirts, watched him motionless.

He stretched out his hand clawlike, and laughed, his eyes gleaming, as
catlike he moved nearer, A terror