n the contrary, were flush with ammunition. Mr. ----'s
cartridges were abundant among them, and from east, south, and west the
bullets were whizzing overhead, ripping up little grass tufts from the
prairie and raising a dust wherever they struck. The mounted skirmishers
sheered off into the timber quite early, as they were being shot at from
three sides, sprang from their horses and took to the trees, but before
they could do so several casualties had occurred. Six horses were lying
dead out on the prairie, others were wounded and bleeding, but worse
than that, two old Arizona sergeants, veterans of a dozen fights, and
five of the men were severely wounded. Ray's efforts to keep down the
return fire were futile. As long as the men had cartridges and he was
not about, they would fire. Just as Wayne the second time rode out to
the front he found Dana slowly dismounting.

"Are you hit?" he asked.

Dana nodded, pressed his hand to his side, and saying nothing, walked up
to a neighboring cottonwood and leaned against it, looking rather pale.

"Damn the luck!" growled Wayne. "This won't do. I must get the whole
crowd under cover."

"You get under yourself," grinned Dana. "That hat of yours looks like a
sieve now. Yi-ip! There goes your horse." And forgetting his own pain,
he strove to aid the captain, whose horse had suddenly plunged forward,
and was now rolling and kicking in the agony of death.

"I'm all right, Dana. Poor old Ned! he's carried me many a mile. Here,
sergeant, help the lieutenant back to the doctor. Go, Dana! I'll get the
men where they belong. We're all right, once we get in the timber."

And so, little by little, slowly and steadily the skirmishers fell back
to the shelter of the trees. There in big semicircle they were
distributed, each in a little, hastily constructed rifle-pit or shelter
of his own, and by nine o'clock this bright July morning the first phase
of the combat was at an end, and there was time to "take account of
stock."

Dana was shot through the side by a Henry or Winchester bullet, and was
lying under the bank faint, thirsty, but plucky. Sergeant Gwinn and two
of the men were dead, and eight men now needed the care of the surgeon;
three of them were senseless, probably mortally hurt. At least fifteen
horses were killed or rendered useless; the others were "corralled"
under the bank, where, in a deep bend, they were safe except from
long-range fire. Ray's men on the island had impro