r, to find that it ate very sweet with nothing but a
few handfuls of water to wash it down.

By the time this was finished the sun had sunk far below the rocks on
his left, and the dreamy, restful state into which the boy had been
falling passed away. For the thoughts that came fast now were beginning
to grow troublous. It would not be long before it was night, and with
the darkness an exciting time would arrive. Chris thought that the
Indians would not wait long before they attacked, and a great anxiety
now oppressed him. Would his father think of this and be prepared, or
would he wait too long, and then--

It was too horrible to think of. Chris all through that afternoon had
been suffering from the effect of his exertions, and had sunk into a
restful state a long way on to the border which divides wakefulness from
sleep; but with the coming of darkness his brain had become active to a
painful degree, and but for the stringent orders he had received to be
prepared and wait with the ponies, he would have gone forward, sought
his father, and told him of his fears.

"He's sure to know better than I do," cried the boy at last, to comfort
himself, but with very poor effect, as he kept his watch till the
darkness had seemed to settle down like a flood in the gulch, the ponies
had become invisible, and the sky had turned to a dark purple with a few
stars dotting it here and there.

Half-an-hour now passed, and then the boy's agonised tension was broken
by three shots ringing out almost together.

"A volley!" he said aloud, and the words had hardly passed his lips
before there was a repetition of the reports.

"The other three barrels!" he cried excitedly, and then, speaking as if
those of whom he thought were close at hand, "Load, load, load!" he
panted. "Oh, quick, quick! They're coming on!"

He waited again, but there was not a sound, and half-an-hour seemed to
have passed, during which his busy brain invented a host of horrors,
chief among which was that in which he pictured to himself the Indians
stealing up to the defenders of the barrier, knife in hand, to spring
upon them and massacre all before they could fire another shot in their
defence.

So horrible became the silence at last that Chris felt that if it lasted
much longer he must mount his mustang and ride forward to learn the
worst.

"Even if they kill me," he muttered, and he mentally saw himself falling
beneath the enemy's blows.

But in resp