ws,
and in rounding every curve Bucks, with the scout Leon Sublette,
sitting greatly wrought up behind Stanley and Casement, expected
momentarily to see Cheyenne war bonnets spring up out of the stunted
cedars that lined the hills along the right of way.

But not a sign could be seen of any living thing. The train reached
Feather Creek, and slowly crossed the bridge before Scott signalled
the engineman to stop. His eye had detected the scene of the fight,
and the ground beyond--a low cut--was favorable for getting the men
safely out of the cars.

As the engine slowed, a little scene of desolation beside the right of
way met Bucks's eye, and he caught sight of the ghastly battle-field.
A frightened section crew emerged from the wild-plum thickets along
the creek bottom, as the cavalrymen, followed by Casement's armed men,
poured out of the three cars. Stanley with his scouts led the way to
the emigrant camp, where the fight had taken place. The wagons had
been burned, the horses run off, and the three unfortunate men
butchered.

Bucks experienced a shock when Scott came upon the three dead men
whose mutilated bodies had been dragged from the scene by the section
men and who lay with covered faces side by side under a little
plum-tree, fragrant with blossoms and alive with the hum of bees. The
sunshine and the beauty of the spot contrasted strangely with the
revolting spectacle upon the grass.

Stanley gave the orders by which the bodies were conveyed to the train
and with the scouts and cavalrymen reconnoitering the surrounding
country, Casement's men lay on their arms in the shade of the cut.
Dancing rigged a pony instrument to the telegraph wires, which had not
been disturbed, and Bucks transmitted messages to Fort Kearney
advising the commanding officer of the murders and adding afterward
the report of Scott and Sublette as to the direction the marauders had
taken in flight.

"Who were the beasts, Bob, that could treat men like that?" demanded
Bucks in an angry undertone, when he had clicked the messages over the
wires.

"Bad Indians," answered Scott sententiously. "You have that kind of
white men, don't you? These fellows are probably Turkey Leg's thieving
Cheyennes. We shall hear more of them."

In the meantime the scouts and the cavalry detail rode out again
trying to unmask the Cheyennes, but without success. It was a week
before they were even heard of, and after an all-day attempt to do
something, the