ey, edged with green at the coulee mouths; the sandy spots where the
wind had worked at the foot of the banks; the dotted islands out in the
shimmering, shallow river. I can see again, under the clear, sweet,
quiet sky, the picture of those painted men--their waving lances, their
swaying bodies as they reached for the quivers across their shoulders. I
can see the loose ropes trailing at the horses' noses, and see the light
leaning forward of the red and yellow and ghastly white-striped and
black-stained bodies, and the barred black of the war paint on their
faces. I feel again, so much almost that my body swings in unison, the
gathering stride of the ponies cutting the dust into clouds. I see the
color and the swiftness of it all, and feel its thrill, the strength and
tenseness of it all. And again I feel, as though it were to-day, the
high, keen, pleasant resolution which came to me. We had women with us.
Whether this young woman was now to die or not, none of us men would see
it happen.

They came on, massed as I have said, to within about two hundred and
fifty yards, then swung out around us, their horse line rippling up over
the broken ground apparently as easily as it had gone on the level floor
of the valley. Still we made no volley fire. I rejoiced to see the cool
pallor of Belknap's face, and saw him brave and angry to the core. Our
plainsmen, too, were grim, though eager; and our little band of cavalry,
hired fighters, rose above that station and became not mongrel private
soldiers, but Anglo-Saxons each. They lay or knelt or stood back of the
wagon line, imperturbable as wooden men, and waited for the order to
fire, though meantime two of them dropped, hit by chance bullets from
the wavering line of horsemen that now encircled us.

"Tell us when to fire, Auberry," I heard Belknap say, for he had
practically given over the situation to the old plainsman. At last I
heard the voice of Auberry, changed from that of an old man into the
quick, clear accents of youth, sounding hard and clear. "Ready now! Each
fellow pick his own man, and kill him, d'ye hear, _kill_ him!"

We had no further tactics. Our fire began to patter and crackle. Our
troopers were armed with the worthless old Spencer carbines, and I doubt
if these did much execution; but there were some good old Hawkin rifles
and old big-bored Yagers and more modern Sharps' rifles and other
buffalo guns of one sort or another with us, among the plainsmen and