e out
of range. Will gave a sigh of relief.

"Load up again, Billy!" smiled Simpson. "They'll soon be back."

"They've only three or four rifles," said Woods. There had been little
lead in the cloud of arrows.

"Here they come!" warned Simpson, and the trio ran their rifles out over
the dead mules.

Three more riderless ponies; but the Indians kept on, supposing they
had drawn the total fire of the whites. A revolver fusillade undeceived
them, and the charging column wavered and broke for cover.

Simpson patted Will on the shoulder as they reloaded. "You're a game
one, Billy!" said he.

"You bet he is," echoed Woods, coolly drawing an arrow from his
shoulder. "How is that, Lew--poisoned?"

Will waited breathless for the decision, and his relief was as great as
Woods's when Simpson, after a critical scrutiny, answered "No."

The wound was hastily dressed, and the little company gave an undivided
attention to the foe, who were circling around their quarry, hanging to
the off sides of their ponies and firing under them. With a touch of
the grim humor that plain life breeds, Will declared that the mules were
veritable pincushions, so full of arrows were they stuck.

The besieged maintained a return fire, dropping pony after pony, and
occasionally a rider. This proved expensive sport to the Indians, and
the whole party finally withdrew from range.

There was a long breathing spell, which the trio improved by
strengthening their defense, digging up the dirt with their knives
and piling it upon the mules. It was tedious work, but preferable to
inactivity and cramped quarters.

Two hours went by, and the plan of the enemy was disclosed. A light
breeze arose, and the Indians fired the prairie. Luckily the grass
near the trail was short, and though the heat was intense and the smoke
stifling, the barricade held off the flame. Simpson had kept a close
watch, and presently gave the order to fire. A volley went through
the smoke and blaze, and the yell that followed proved that it was
not wasted. This last ruse failing, the Indians settled down to their
favorite game--waiting.

A thin line of them circled out of range; ponies were picketed and tents
pitched; night fell, and the stars shot out.

As Woods was wounded, he was excused from guard duty, Will and Simpson
keeping watch in turn. Will took the first vigil, and, tired though he
was, experienced no difficulty in keeping awake, but he went soundly to
sleep the m