it is another to get out
of it. Wounded or unhorsed, any men left behind are doomed to cruel and
certain death. Within another minute, Cranston and his men came tearing
in, firing right and left at every dusky form that appeared. Within a
minute the prostrate bodies were found, and half a dozen men, Brannan
among them, had sprung from their saddles, while the others rode
blazing with their revolvers at the nearest lodges, some bringing their
carbines into play. But even within that minute the scalping-knife had
been at work, and poor Donovan's mutilated head lay in a pool of blood.
Short-lived triumph for the scalper, sneaking to shelter with his
hideous prize, for Cranston's pistol stretched him in his tracks, and
Sergeant Buckner's big charger knocked the foremost of the rescuing
warriors scrambling back between the lodges, where other troopers drove
their horses trampling them under foot. But every wigwam had its
garrison. The village swarmed with maddened braves, who now came rushing
to the scene, and, they on foot and the troopers in saddle, they with
their repeating rifles, the troopers with their pistols or
single-shooters, annihilation of the latter could be but a question of a
few moments. Even before Davies and his brave defenders could be lifted
to the saddle and led away, two or three more of Cranston's horses went
down, and Corporal Bertram was shot through both thighs. Then came the
effort to retire fighting, covering their dead and wounded. There was
only one way to go,--out across the westward flat, where the ponies were
peacefully grazing when the attacking column hove in sight. Even as he
shouted his orders to his savagely fighting troop, Cranston looked back
with keen anxiety. To what pitiless fire must they be exposed in
retreating over that prairie! Yet, with Indians on every hand within the
village, it was manifestly his duty to get out. "Go on with the
wounded!" he cried to the men afoot. "Go on! We'll cover you." And then
Davies slowly opened his eyes and began to look feebly about him. Oh,
if Truman would only come! Every second the fight waged fiercer, hotter,
and more men dropped as they backed slowly away. Down went Buckner's
horse. Down went the guidon, and then, when it seemed as though half the
troop must fall before they could reach the open field, the
half-frenzied, half-joyous cheer of Truman's men rose shrill above the
clamor, and again the dancing, howling Indians dove for cover underne