ropped upon the low platform.

Rosebud turned away with a laugh, though her eyes filled with tears. She
waved a handkerchief, and Seth's tall, slim figure was the last she beheld
of Beacon Crossing. And when the train was sufficiently far away she
kissed her hand in the direction of the solitary figure still doing sentry
at the extremity of the platform. Then she went into the car and gave full
vent to the tears she had struggled so long to repress.

CHAPTER XIX

SETH PLAYS A STRONG HAND

It would seem that the Agent's prompt action in summoning the aid of the
troops had averted disaster. No trouble followed immediately on Seth's
drastic treatment of Little Black Fox, and the majority of the settlers
put this result down to the fact of the overawing effect of the cavalry.
One or two held different opinions, and amongst these were the men of
White River Farm. They were inclined to the belief that the wounding of
the chief was the sole reason that the people remained quiet. Anyway, not
a shot was fired, much to the satisfaction of the entire white population,
and, after two weeks had passed, by slow degrees, a large proportion of
the troops were withdrawn.

Then followed a government inquiry, at which Seth was the principal
witness. It was a mere formality by which the affair was relegated to the
history of the State. The government knew better than to punish the chief.
After all, Little Black Fox was a king of his race, and, however much it
might desire to be rid of the turbulent Sioux, it would be a dangerous
thing to act with a high hand.

But the matter served as an excuse for one of those mistakes which so
often have a far-reaching effect. There was an old fort close by the Pine
Ridge Reservation, one of those ancient structures erected by old-time
traders. It had long been untenanted, and had fallen into decay. The
authorities decided to make it habitable, and turn it into a small
military post, garrisoning it with a detachment of about one hundred
cavalry.

It was a mistake. And every white man of experience in the district knew
that it was so. Even the Agents of the two Reservations sounded a warning
note. It is fatal to attempt to bluff the Indian. Bluff and back the
bluff. But a handful of cavalry is no backing to any bluff. The older
settlers shook their heads; the more timorous dared to hope; even old
Roiheim, who would make profit by the adjacency of soldiers, would
willingly have foregone the