t had settled over the plains. Still the last
family, Joe Smith and his belongings, had not come in. Seth intended to
give them their chance up to the very last, before he finally closed the
gates. As the sun dropped he dispatched four mounted men to act as
vedettes. They took up their positions a mile out from the farm, with
orders to fire two shots in quick succession on sight of any Indians, and
then to ride in with all speed.

After delivering his instructions he took up his position upon the
stockade and watched them go. He was very anxious for the safety of Joe
Smith; his place was nearly ten miles out, and away to the northeast. He
knew that if the northern Indians were out it was quite possible that the
old man had been cut off.

Now, as the day drew to a close, something of the gloomy prospect before
them all seemed to have entered his soul. He was no alarmist, but he knew
only too well the meaning of a big general Indian rising. The horrors he
had witnessed in his early days were strong upon him, and the presence of
all these white women under his charge weighed sorely. Nor did he glean
much satisfaction from the thought that, at least, should disaster fall
upon them he still had power to punish the man whom he knew to be the
author of all this trouble. It would be poor consolation.

The darkness was growing. Now the reflection of Indian fires could be seen
in almost every direction. There seemed to be a perfect ring of them, in
the distance, around the farm.

He was disturbed in his gloomy reverie by the sound of some one scrambling
up the newly-made earthworks to his side. It was Rosebud.

She took her seat at his side in silence. She was clad in her old prairie
riding-habit of canvas, strong and rough, and eminently suited to the
present condition of things. They had hardly met since the first alarm, so
busy had everybody been. But now that all was ready the final lull before
the breaking of the storm had provided even the busiest with leisure. The
girl's first words came abruptly, and displayed her wonderful faith in the
man to whom they all looked for help and protection.

"Shall we pull through, Seth?" she asked.

"Can't say, Rosie."

The man's reply was spoken slowly.

"Poor auntie!" Rosebud went on. "I can't help thinking of her. I wish I'd
never said anything about 'scalping' to her. But she's very good and
brave. She hasn't complained, and she's worked as hard as anybody. Do you
know, I bel