re buried in his flesh. Not for a
moment while he stood on his feet and fought them on the morning of that
day had hope entirely deserted him. Four years of hardship, of
privation, and adventure had so strengthened his courage that to give up
was to die.

Presently, when he had exhausted his strength and sat quietly, the
Indians went on with the preliminaries. The gold in the west grew
deeper, the shadows in the foothills darker, as the moments sped.
Swiftly the captive's mind ran over the events of the past four years.
This was his first failure, and this was the end of it all--of the
years of working and waiting.

Clenching his fists, he lifted his hot face to the dumb sky, but no
sound escaped from his parched and parted lips. Suddenly a light shone
on the semicircle of feather-framed faces in front of him, and he heard
the familiar crackling of burning boughs. Glancing toward the ground he
saw that the fagots were on fire. He felt the hot breath of flame, and
then for the first time realized what torture meant. Again he surged,
and surged again, the cedars crackled, the red fiends danced. Another
effort, the rawhide parted and he stood erect. With both hands freed he
felt new strength, new hope. He tried to free himself from the pyre, but
his feet were fettered, and he fell among his captors. Two or three of
them seized him, but he shook them off and stood up again.

But it was useless. From every side the Indians rushed upon him and bore
him to the ground. Still he fought and struggled, and as he fought the
air seemed full of strange, wild sounds, of shouts and shots and
hoof-beating on the dry, hard earth. He seemed to see, as through a
veil, scores of Indians, Indians afoot and on horseback, naked Indians
and Indians in soldier clothes. Once he thought he saw a white face
gleam just as he got to his feet, but at that moment the big chief stood
before him, his battle-axe uplifted. The engineer's head was whirling.
Instinctively he tried to use the strong right arm, but it had lost its
cunning. The roar of battle grew apace, the axe descended, the left arm
went up and took the blow of the handle, but the edge of the weapon
reached over and split the white man's chin. As he fell heavily to the
earth the light went out again.

* * * * *

Save for the stars that stood above him it was still dark when Bradford
woke. He felt blankets beneath him, and asked in a whisper: "Who's
here?"