But, while the discussion seemed endless among the Indians on the
northward side, never for a moment was the vigilance of the circle
relaxed. South, east and west the slopes and lowlands were dotted with
restless horsemen, and from young Clayton came the word that through his
glass he could make out three or four warriors far away toward the
Moccasin Ridge. "That's good," said Ray. "It means they, too, are
looking for a column coming out from Frayne. But where on earth did all
these rascals come from? There must be four hundred now in sight."

Well might he ask and marvel! Stabber's little village had never more
than fifty warriors. Lame Wolf's band was counted at less than two
hundred and forty fighting men, and these, so said the agents of the
omniscient Bureau, were all the Ogalallas away from the shelter of the
reservation when the trouble started. No more should be allowed to go,
was the confident promise, yet a fortnight nearly had elapsed since the
frontier fun began. News of battle sweeps with marvellous speed through
Indian haunted lands, and here were warriors by the score, come to
strengthen the hands of kindred in the field, and, more were coming. The
mirror signals plainly told them that. Yet it was now well nigh one
o'clock and not another hostile move was made. Fox then was being held
by stronger hands. It meant that Lame Wolf had listened to reason,--and
Stabber, and would permit no fresh attack until his numbers should be so
increased that resistance would practically be vain. It meant even
more--that the Indian leader in chief command felt sure no force was
yet within helping distance of the corralled troopers. He could,
therefore, take his time.

But this was a theory Ray would not whisper to his men. He knew Webb. He
knew Webb would soon read the signs from the north and be coming to his
relief, and Ray was right. Even as he reasoned there came a message from
across the grove. Lieutenant Clayton said the Indians he had seen away
to the south were racing back. "Thank God!" was the murmured answer no
man heard. "Now, lads, be ready!" was the ringing word that roused the
little troop, like bugle call "To Arms." And even as eager faces lifted
over the low parapets to scan the distant foe, fresh signals came
flashing down from the northward ridge, fresh bands of warriors came
darting to join the martial throng about the still wrangling chieftains,
and then, all on a sudden, with mighty yelling and shril