ng on the ground, ringed about by a
circle of those who had fallen by their hands.

"Well, boys!" exclaimed the captain, "I guess we came just in the nick of
time. You were about at the last ditch, but from all the signs you must
have put up a corking fight."

Before any one could answer, the surgeon, who had accompanied the
rescuing party, arrived on the scene, and immediately took charge of the
wounded men. One of the passengers was past all aid, and the other was
badly wounded. The doctor shook his head when he examined the senseless
but still breathing form of the guard, but finally announced that he had
a chance to recover. Among the three boys Tom's wounded arm was the most
serious injury sustained, although they had all suffered cuts and slashes
and were weak from loss of blood.

By the time their wounds had been dressed and bandaged the first of the
pursuing cavalry returned with the prisoners they had captured. An hour
later the last of them rode in, reporting that the braves who had escaped
capture had scattered to the four points of the compass, making further
pursuit useless.

"Very well," said Captain Graham, their leader; "we'll return to Helena
with the prisoners. But you lads," he said, turning to the three friends,
"where were you bound for when you were attacked?"

Bert told him, and the captain told off half a dozen troopers to escort
them to the ranch. "You deserve the highest praise for the plucky fight
you put up," he said, "and I don't want your lives put in jeopardy by any
of the redskins who may return to this neighborhood after we leave. I
imagine they've had all the fight taken out of them by this time,
however, and they'll probably make a bee line for the reservation. But
it is best to be on the safe side, at all events."

The boys thanked him heartily for his timely aid, and then, each mounted
on a trooper's horse, they and the escort set off in the direction of the
ranch, first shaking hands with Buck, the stage-coach driver.

"You're plucky lads," he exclaimed, wringing their hands, "and we all put
up the scrap of our lives. I don't know about old Sam"--here a shadow
passed over his face--"but he's a tough old sinner, an' I reckon he'll
pull through all right. I hope I'll see you lads again some time, I sure
do."

It was with real regret that the friends parted from him, and more than
once they turned in their saddles and waved their hats to him, until his
sturdy figure was swallo