ld encourage others to join them. They could do it; they could do
it if only the rest of the boys would come. They poured in their
volleys and waited. But Reno made no move. Weir and Brant, determined
to hold every inch thus gained, threw the dismounted men on their faces
behind every projection of earth, and encircled the ridge with flame.
If they could not advance, they would not be driven back. They were
high up now, where they could overlook the numerous ridges and valleys
far around; and yonder, perhaps two miles away, they could perceive
vast bodies of mounted Indians, while the distant sound of heavy firing
was borne faintly to their ears. It was vengeful savages shooting into
the bodies of the dead, but that they did not know. Messenger after
messenger, taking life in hand, was sent skurrying down the bluff, to
beg reinforcements to push on for the rescue, swearing it was possible.
But it was after five o'clock before Reno moved. Then cautiously he
advanced his column toward where N and D Troops yet held desperately to
the exposed ridge. He came too late. That distant firing had ceased,
and all need for further advance had ended. Already vast forces of
Indians, flushed with victory and waving bloody scalps, were sweeping
back across the ridges to attack in force. Scarcely had reinforcements
attained the summit before the torrent of savagery burst screeching on
their front.

From point to point the grim struggle raged, till nightfall wrought
partial cessation. The wearied troopers stretched out their lines so
as to protect the packs and the field hospital, threw themselves on the
ground, digging rifle-pits with knives and tin pans. Not until nine
o'clock did the Indian fire slacken, and then the village became a
scene of savage revel, the wild yelling plainly audible to the soldiers
above. Through the black night Brant stepped carefully across the
recumbent forms of his men, and made his way to the field hospital. In
the glare of the single fire the red sear of a bullet showed clearly
across his forehead, but he wiped away the slowly trickling blood, and
bent over a form extended on a blanket.

"Has he roused up?" he questioned of the trooper on guard.

"Not to know nuthin', sir. He's bin swearin' an' gurglin' most o' ther
time, but he's asleep now, I reckon."

The young officer stood silent, his face pale, his gaze upon the
distant Indian fires. Out yonder were defeat, torture, death, and
t