harlie's located 'em." Seth's tone was quietly assuring, and old Rube
sighed his relief.

Then the dog suddenly reappeared. He, too, seemed to understand that
friends were approaching.

And so it proved. The night of long suspense was over. A few minutes later
a squad of United States cavalry, in charge of a dapper, blue-coated
lieutenant, rode up to the farm. And when they arrived Seth was there by
himself to receive them.

"Rube Sampson's farm?" inquired the lieutenant, as he swung from his
steaming horse.

"Right." Seth shook hands with the man.

"Trouble over there," observed the other, indicating the Reservation with
a nod of the head.

"Yup. Come right in. Guess your boys had best make their plugs snug in the
barn. Come right in, and I'll rouse Ma."

Those last two hours before morning were the hardest part of all to Rube
and Seth, for, in the parlor, they had to detail all the events of the
preceding day to Lieutenant Barrow and his sergeant. And neither of them
was good at explaining.

Breakfast was partaken of; after which, since the soldiers had accepted
all responsibility, Ma packed her men-folk off to bed. Seth had not seen a
bed since Friday night, and this was Tuesday.

The neighborhood of the farm, and, in fact, all along the north side of
the river presented an unusual sight when Seth and Rube reappeared at
noon. Two regiments of United States cavalry had taken up their position
ready for any emergency.

The midday meal was a little late, so that Seth's shoulder might be
properly dressed. And when at last the family sat down to it, it
threatened to be more than usually silent. All were weary, and the women
overwrought. Ma was the only one who made any attempt to rouse the
drooping spirits about her. The men knew that they were confronted with no
ordinary Indian rising. There was something far more threatening to them
personally.

As the meal dragged on Ma abandoned her efforts entirely, and a long
silence ensued. Finally Rube pushed back his chair and rose from the
table. Then it was that Seth spoke for the first time.

He looked from Rube to Ma. He was trying to look unconcerned, and even
smiled.

"Say," he observed, "guess I was fergittin'. I got a bit of a letter
from--England."

Rube dropped back into his chair, and his eyes were questioning. Ma was
staring through her spectacles at her boy. She, too, was asking a mute
question. But hers was merely a quiet curiosity, while Rube's,