ng the arrow from Hallowell's back, Booth turned again to
the opening in the rear of the wagon to see what new tricks the devils
were up to, when Hallowell again called out, "Off to the left, Cap,
quick!"

Rushing to the front as soon as possible, Booth saw one of the savages
in the very act of shooting at Hallowell from the left side of the
wagon, not ten feet away. The last revolver was empty, but something
had to be done at once; so, levelling the weapon at him, Booth shouted
"Bang! you son-of-a-gun!" Down the Indian ducked his head; rap, rap,
went his knees against his pony's sides, and away he flew over the
prairie!

Back to his old place in the rear tumbled Booth, to load his
revolver. The cartridges they used in the army in those days were the
old-fashioned kind made of paper. Biting off one end, he endeavoured
to pour the powder into the chamber of the pistol; but as the wagon was
tumbling from side to side, and jumping up and down, as it fairly flew
over the rough Trail, more fell into the bottom of the wagon than into
the revolver. Just as he was inserting a ball, Hallowell yelled, "To the
left, Cap, quick!"

Over the seat Booth piled once more, and there was another Indian with
his bow and arrow all ready to pinion the brave lieutenant. Pointing his
revolver at him, Booth yelled as he had at the other, but this savage
had evidently noticed the first failure, and concluded there were no
more loads left; so, instead of taking a hasty departure, he grinned
demoniacally and endeavoured to fix the arrow in his bow. Booth rose up
in the wagon, and grasping hold of one of its bows with his left hand,
seized the revolver by the muzzle, and with all the force he could
muster hurled it at the impudent brute. It was a Remington, its barrel
octagon-shaped, with sharp corners, and when it was thrown, it turned
in the air, and striking the Indian muzzle-first on the ribs, cut a long
gash.

"Ugh!" he grunted, as, dropping his bow and spear, he flung himself over
the side of his pony, and away he went across the prairie.

Only one revolver remaining now, and that empty, with the savages still
howling around the apparently doomed men like so many demons! Booth fell
over the seat, as was his usual fate whenever he attempted to get to the
back of the wagon, picked up the empty revolver, and tried to load it;
but before he could bite the end of a cartridge, Hallowell yelled,

"Cap, I'm hit again!"

"Where this time?" in