out for a few miles. Brush appeared
as well off as they were. Slingerland led by perhaps a hundred feet, far
over to the left, and he was wholly out of range.

It took a very short time at that pace to cover a couple of miles. And
then the Indians began to creep up closer and closer. Again they were
shooting. Neale heard the reports and each one made him flinch in
expectation of feeling the burn of a bullet. Brush was now turning to
fire his rifle.

Neale bethought himself of his own Winchester, which he was carrying in
his hand. Dropping the rein over the horn of his saddle, he turned half
round. How close, how red, how fierce these Sioux were! He felt his hair
rise stiff under his hat. And at the same instant a hot wrath rushed
over him, madness to fight, to give back blow for blow. Just then
several of the Indians fired. He heard the sharp cracks, then the spats
of bullets striking the ground; he saw the little streaks of dust in
front of him. Then the whistle of lead. That made him shoot in return.
His horse lunged forward, almost throwing him, and ran the faster for
his fright. Neale heard Larry begin to shoot. It became a running duel
now, with the Indians scattering wide, riding low, yelling like demons,
and keeping up a continuous volley. They were well armed with white
men's guns. Neale worked the lever of his rifle while he looked ahead
for an instant to see where his horse was running; then he wheeled
quickly and took a snap shot at the nearest Indian, no more than three
hundred yards distant now. He saw where his bullet, going wide, struck
up the dust. It was desperately hard to shoot from the back of a scared
horse. Neale did not notice that Larry's shots were any more effective
than his own. He grew certain that the Sioux were gaining faster now.
But the work-train was not far away. He saw the workmen on top of the
cars waving their arms. Rougher ground, though, on this last stretch.

Larry was drawing ahead. He had used all the shells in his rifle and now
with hand and spur was goading his horse.

Suddenly Neale heard the soft thud of lead striking flesh. His horse
leaped with a piercing snort of terror, and Neale thought he was going
down. But he recovered, and went plunging on, still swift and game,
though with uneven gait. Larry yelled. His red face flashed back over
his shoulder. He saw something was wrong with Neale's horse and he
pulled his own.

"Save your own life!" yelled Neale, fiercely. I