hat Watusk was more
uneasy than himself.

To a discerning eye the Indian leader was suffering visible torments.
Egerton, the wily old Indian fighter, knew his man.

If he had made the slightest move to provoke a conflict, raged,
threatened, fired a gun, the savage nature would instantly have
reacted, and it would have all been over in a few moments. But to
laugh and light a cigarette! Watusk was rendered impotent by a morale
beyond his comprehension.

The longest half hour has only thirty minutes. Inspector Egerton
looked at his watch for the last time and spoke to his men. The
policemen caught their horses, and without any appearance of haste,
tightened girths and mounted.

They commenced to move slowly through the grass in the track of
Watusk's party, spreading out wide in open formation. The inspector
was in the center of the line. He carried no arms. His men were still
joking and laughing.

They commenced to mount the hill, walking their horses, and sitting
loosely in their saddles. Each trooper had his reins in one hand, his
rifle barrel in the other, with the butt of the weapon resting on his
thigh.

They were coming straight for the rifle pit; no doubt they had marked
the bushes masking it. Ambrose saw that they were young men,
slim-waisted and graceful. The one on the right end had lost his hat
through some accident. He had fair hair that caught the sun.

This was the critical moment. The fate of the nineteen boys and their
white-haired leader hung by a hair. Ambrose held his breath under the
gag. A cry, an untoward movement would have caused an immediate
slaughter.

The Indians' eyes glittered, their teeth showed, they fingered their
rifles. A single word from their leader would have sufficed. Watusk
longed to speak it, and could not. The sweat was running down his
yellow-gray face.

One of the horses stumbled. The Indians with muttered exclamations
flung up their guns. Ambrose thought it was all over.

But at that moment by the grace of God, one of the troopers made a good
joke, and a hearty laugh rang along the line. The Indians lowered
their guns and stared with bulging eyes. They could not fight supermen
like these.

Watusk, with the groan of total collapse, dropped his gun on the
ground, and turned to escape by the path out of the pit.

Instantly there was pandemonium in the narrow place. Some tried to
escape with their leader; others blocked the way. Ambrose saw Wat