lance does Cranston fling as
his magnificent bay quickens his stride, and the long line instantly
responds. One half nod, half smile to Davies, for the Parson rides like
moss trooper of old, with grim set face, despite the eager light in his
keen, blue-gray eyes.

"Open out now a little, men! Gently, keep your rank!" for the chargers
are tugging madly, straining for a race. A terrified squaw, clasping her
baby to her breast, bursts from the nearest tepee, pauses one instant
as though paralyzed, and then, with unerring instinct, holding her
little one on high, runs straight forward, mutely appealing, straight
for the galloping line. "Open out! Look out for the kid! Let her
through, lads," are the low, hurried cautions. Somewhere on the near
skirt of the village a wild war-whoop rings out on the air, a mad cry of
warning, then bang, zip, comes the first shot from the tepees, whistling
over Cranston's shoulder and skimming a mile away down-stream. No need
of further caution now. Now is the time. Cranston's voice rings like the
bugler's clarion mingling in the order "Charge!" and the welkin rings,
the rocks re-echo to the grand burst of cheers with which "C" Troop goes
tearing, thrashing into the heart of the village, swallowed up instantly
in a dense cloud of dust. For a moment cheer and yell and rallying and
war-cry, mingling with the thunder of hoofs and the sharp crackling of
revolver and rifle, drown all other sounds. Then the screams of Indian
women and children add to the clamor, and, with slashing knives, the
startled braves hew their way out through the tepees. Then the thunder
is swelled by the mad rush of the pony herd away from the driving storm.
The cheer is renewed by Canker's men, yelling and hat waving at the
heels of the herd. The dust-cloud in the village is but a flimsy veil to
the dense volume that goes floating skyward and southward, for practised
hands have prevailed, and the red man's most precious possessions, all
but a scattered few stampeding to and fro among the wigwams, are swept
from his maddened sight.

And then comes the rally on the flats beyond. Sweeping and circling in
the effort to control their excited horses, the troopers, exultant, come
reining up into line long pistol-shot south of the terror-stricken
village. Off to the west the great dust-cloud is slowly settling to
earth, and through it Truman's men, in perfect order, with carbines
advanced, can be seen moving by the flank, but int