ugh, a
moment later, his dulled senses made him aware of a shudder passing over
his companion's frame. He knew that Rube staggered, just as he was made
aware that he recovered, and, with a sudden access of fury, renewed the
fight. He knew that his friend had been badly hit, and was putting forth
his last reserve of strength.

In the midst of this last struggle he heard the bugle again, but this time
it was louder. Its note rose high above the noise of battle, the roar of
the flames. But even so, he did not take its meaning until he heard a
mighty cheer go up from his comrades within the defences.

He roused; a great joy thrilled him. His head suddenly became clear, and
his weakness passed from him like the lifting of some depressing cloud. He
found himself able to put forth a last exertion, and at this juncture he
was somehow standing at Rube's side, instead of at his back.

Of one accord, and without a word, they charged the howling mob. They
smote with their heavy rifles in every direction, shouting as they went,
driving all before them. A mighty triumph was in Seth's heart; he had no
room for anything else, no thought for anything else. Even he was blinded
to the old man's condition. It was not until he was joined by the rest of
the defenders, and the Indians were wildly struggling over one another to
escape through the still blazing gateway, and the old man fell like a log
at his side in the midst of the pursuit, that he realized what had
happened. Rube was bleeding from a gaping wound at the base of his neck.

Just for one instant he saw the gateway fill with uniformed horsemen, then
Seth fell on his knees at his foster-father's side.

There was no attempt to pursue the Indians. Weary and exhausted the little
garrison gathered mutely round the fallen man. Ma was at Seth's side. She
had raised her husband's head, and her old gray eyes were peering tenderly
anxious into his. While she was still supporting him, some one pushed a
way to her side. One bare white arm was thrust through hers, and a hand
was gently laid on the old man's rugged forehead. Ma turned inquiringly
upon the intruder, and found herself staring into a pair of tearful,
violet eyes.

"Rosebud!" she cried. And instantly the tears slowly rolled down her worn
cheeks, the first tears, she had shed during that last terrible week.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE SENTENCE

The relief of the farm was really only the beginning of the campaign. It
meant t