he cattle, and burned the wagons.
The trainmen were permitted to retain one wagon and team, with just
enough supplies to last them to army headquarters.

It was a disheartened, discomfited band that reached Fort Bridger. The
information that two other trains had been destroyed added to their
discouragement, for that meant that they, in common with the other
trainmen and the soldiers at the fort, must subsist on short rations for
the winter. There were nearly four hundred of these trainmen, and it was
so late in the season that they had no choice but to remain where they
were until spring opened.

It was an irksome winter. The men at the fort hauled their firewood two
miles; as the provisions dwindled, one by one the oxen were slaughtered,
and when this food supply was exhausted, starvation reared its gaunt
form. Happily the freighters got word of the situation, and a relief
team reached the fort before the spring was fairly opened.

As soon as practicable the return journey was undertaken. At Fort
Laramie two large trains were put in charge of Lew Simpson, as brigade
wagon-master, and Will was installed as courier between the two
caravans, which traveled twenty miles apart--plenty of elbow room for
camping and foraging.

One morning, Simpson, George Woods, and Will, who were in the rear
train, set out for the forward one, mounted upon mules, and armed, as
the trainmen always were, with rifle, knife, and a brace of revolvers.
About half of the twenty miles had been told off when the trio saw a
band of Indians emerge from a clump of trees half a mile away and sweep
toward them. Flight with the mules was useless; resistance promised
hardly more success, as the Indians numbered a full half-hundred: but
surrender was death and mutilation.

"Shoot the mules, boys!" ordered Simpson, and five minutes later two men
and a boy looked grimly over a still palpitating barricade.

The defense was simple; rifles at range, revolvers for close quarters,
knives at the last. The chief, easily distinguished by his feathered
head-dress, was assigned to Will. Already his close shooting was the
pride of the frontiersmen. Simpson's coolness steadied the lad, who
realized that the situation was desperate.

The Indians came on with the rush and scream of the March wind. "Fire!"
said Simpson, and three ponies galloped riderless as the smoke curled
from three rifle barrels.

Dismayed by the fall of their chief, the redskins wheeled and rod