l not live
to be their tool. Thunder Hawk rides back with us at once or dies here
and now." And around came the ready weapon, muzzle to the front, with
Red Dog's hand at the guard.

"Ride back to your men, lieutenant," muttered the old Indian. "You have
my word that I will join you as soon as I can, but this man is crazed.
He means to force a fight."

"If that be so my place is here with you," was the answer. "What does he
demand?" "No parlying with your soldier friends," shouted Red Dog,
again in the Sioux tongue. Then, as though losing all control of himself
in his hatred of his captor, he dashed furiously at Davies. "Back!" he
shouted. "Back!" And he pointed with grand dramatic action up the
valley. "Back to your own people! This is Indian land." Then seeing that
his words fell on heedless ears and that Davies never relaxed his cool,
steadfast gaze into the raging red face, he fell into such English as he
knew. "Run or I kill."

And then Lutz and his reserve, just reaching their comrades under
Corporal Clanton, saw a sudden flash of sunshine from the silver
mountings of the Indian's beautiful Winchester as it was whirled to the
brawny shoulder, saw sudden rear and plunge of Davies's spirited horse,
a grapple as though in mid-air, and with a mad cry of "My God! They'll
murder him!" young trooper Brannan dashed forward from the ranks just as
the shot from Red Dog's rifle whirled harmless into space, and horse and
man, the pride of the Ogallalla hostiles, were rolling in the dust,
overthrown by the officers heavier charger, while the butt of the
polished weapon, wrested from the warrior's grasp and wielded by
muscular hand, came down with resounding whack on the head of the
struggling chief, and for the second time, in the very face of his
astonished braves, Red Dog, the redoubtable, went sprawling to earth,
downed by the white chief whom he affected to despise.

In the fierce mellay that followed the advantage lay with the first to
move. Lutz and his party had not really checked their gait, and so
leaped into the charge with a flying start. Sixteen ready troopers had
darted forward to the support of their beloved young officer. Thunder
Hawk had lashed his pony so as to interpose between him and the rush of
the Indian band, but even as those red-skins nearest the centre, where
the drums and rattles were keeping up their low, threatening din, with
one impulse dashed forward to rescue the chief, those on the flanks,