rsed. Each day saw one or two of the white men laid low, and
the burden of the rest proportionately increased. Thus, out of a total of
thirty available men and youths, at the end of six days the force was
reduced by nearly a third.

But worst of all was the strain. Every man within the stockade, and for
that matter, most of the women, too, knew that the pressure could not
endure much longer without disastrous results. Ammunition was plentiful,
provisions also, and the well supplied all the water necessary. It was
none of these; it was the nerve strain, the lack of proper rest and sleep.
The men only snatched odd half hours in the daytime. At night every eye
and ear had to be alert.

Seth and Parker headed everything. In the councils they were the leaders,
just as they were in the fighting. And on them devolved the full control
of affairs, from the distribution of rations, in which Ma Sampson and
Miss Parker were their lieutenants, to the regulations for the sanitation
of the fort.

All the time Nevil Steyne was never lost sight of. He was driven to fight
beside his leader with Rube close behind him ready for any treachery. He
knew that Seth knew him, knew his secret, knew his relations with the
Indians, and he quite understood that his only hope lay in implicit
obedience, and a watchful eye for escape. His nature was such that he had
no qualms of conscience in regard to opposing his red-skinned friends.
That part he accepted philosophically. He had so long played a game of
self-seeking treachery that his present condition came quite easily to
him.

For Seth, who shall say what that dreadful period of suspense must have
been? He went about his work with his usual quiet, thoughtful face, a
perfect mask for that which lay behind it. There was no change of manner
or expression. Success or disaster could not alter his stern, unyielding
ways. He fought with the abandon and desperation of any Indian warrior
when it came to close quarters, returning to his quiet, alert manner of
command the moment the fighting was over. He was uncomplaining, always
reassuring those about him, and carrying in his quiet personality
something that fired his companions to exertions which no words of
encouragement could have done.

Yet he was passing through an agony of heart and mind such as few men are
submitted to. Rosebud had gone, vanished, and no one could answer the
question that was forever in his mind. He had looked for her return when