red to them.

"Yes," he replied, "we shall have to ride for a while through a snow
storm."

"I know that, but it isn't what I mean; yonder is someone following us."

Her position in the arms of her mother gave her opportunity to look back
over the stream they had just crossed, while the attention of her
parents was directed elsewhere.

Her words caused both to glance behind them, where they witnessed a
startling scene. A Sioux Indian, astride of a pony, had halted with the
fore feet of the animal in the margin of the water. Directly behind him
was a second horseman, advancing slowly, and immediately to the rear of
him appeared a third, while the head and shoulders of a fourth were
rising to view over the bank in the path of the others. And there was no
saying how many others made up the procession, streaming toward the ford
in the footsteps of the fugitives.

"Molly," said Mr. Starr, in a low voice, "ride over the top of the hill
as quickly as you can."

"But what will you do?"

"Never mind; obey me at once or we are lost."

[Illustration: A HOT PURSUIT.]

She obeyed without remonstrance, though her fear at that moment was more
for her husband than for herself and child. She was quick-witted enough
to jerk the reins sharply, so that her pony passed out of sight before
the pursuers could suspect her purpose. But the moment she was behind
the sheltering swell, she checked her horse and waited for her husband.

The latter decided on his course of action the moment the peril broke
upon him.

He calmly confronted the advancing bucks and held himself ready to
dispute their crossing. Unless he kept them in check and delayed the
pursuit, nothing could save his family and himself.

The foremost Sioux evidently was the leader. Starr recognized him,
despite his paint, as a fellow who had visited his home on several
occasions, and who was known as Bent Arm, because of a peculiar rigidity
of the left arm, made by some wound received years before.

While the white and red men sat on their ponies facing each other the
remaining warriors continued coming into view until five of them were
grouped behind the leader. There they sat--grim, silent, and
watchful--leaving matters wholly in the hands of the one in front.

The latter, observing the rancher at bay, called to him in fair
English:

"Wait dere--surrender--won't hurt."

"Why do you ask me to surrender? We are not enemies," called back the
white man.

"Wait der