d their position under a second charge,
emptied four saddles before the warriors were within a hundred yards
of the spot, and the eight survivors whipped their ponies down the
slope again.

The sun was climbing high when Amos Chapman rolled over on his side
and called to Billy Dixon that his leg was broken. Dixon lifted his
head and surveyed the situation. The Indians were gathering for
another rush. Thus far they had taken things as though they were so
sure of the ultimate result that they did not see fit to run great
chances. But this could not last. The next charge might be the final
one. Down on a little mesquite flat about two hundred yards distant,
he saw a buffalo wallow. He pointed to it.

"We got to make it," he told the others, and they followed him as he
ran for the shelter. But Amos Chapman crawled only a dozen paces or so
before he had to give it up. The four fell to work with their
butcher-knives heaping up the sand at the summit of the low bank which
surrounded the shallow circular depression. They dropped their knives
and picked up their rifles, for the savages were sweeping down upon
them.

So they dug and fought and fought and dug for another hour and then
Billy Dixon was unable to stand the sight of his partner lying
helpless on the summit of the knoll.

"I'm going to get Amos," he announced, and set forth amid a rain of
bullets. Those who saw him after the fight was over--and General
Miles was among them--said that his shirt was ripped in twenty places
by flying lead. He halted on the hilltop and took up Chapman
pick-a-back, then bore him slowly down the slope to the little
shelter.

Noon came on. The sun shone hot. Dixon had got a bullet in the calf of
his leg when he was bearing his companion on his back. Private Rath
was the only man who was not wounded. They all thirsted as only men
can thirst who have been keyed up to the high pitch of endeavor for
hours. The savages charged thrice more; and when they came, numbers of
them always deployed toward the top of the knoll where Private Smith
lay dying: dead his companions thought, but they were grim in their
determination that the red men should never get the scalp which they
coveted so sorely. The big Sharps boomed; the saddles emptied to their
booming. Private Smith wakened from one swoon only to fall into
another. Sometimes he wakened to the thudding of hoofs and saw the
savages sweeping toward him on their ponies.

Near midafternoon the w