scurrying riders were.

They were Comanches and Kiowas. The Comanches were noted as the most
skillful horsemen of the plains. They all were having fun. A
medicine-man appeared to be their leader. He wore a head-dress of
buffalo-horns and an eagle-feather trail streaming to his pony's tail.
Time after time he charged to within twenty-five yards, at the head of
his warriors, firing with a pistol and urging the braves to ride over
the white men.

"Never mind him," Scout Chapman said. "He's harmless; he can't hit
anything. Tend to the others."

The fight had begun at six in the morning. The long, long day slipped
slowly by; the sun had changed from east to west, and the hour was four
o'clock. By this time the six men were pretty well worn out. Private
Smith's right arm was useless, but he shot left-handed with his
revolver. Of the two hundred cartridges apiece, only a few were left.
The Indians knew; they were growing even bolder. They all had
dismounted, except the medicine-man, and were skulking through the
grass. They had no fear that the white men could get away.

The medicine-man rode up once more, this time to within twenty yards.
As he passed he taunted and fired his pistol. That was his last
challenge, for Scout Dixon answered with a sudden bullet. Reeling, the
medicine-man galloped away and they never saw him again.

But the end seemed near. No help had signaled. The Colonel Miles
column was thirty-six hours' distant. Something had to be done before
dark.

"You see that little knoll yonder?" gasped Amos Chapman. "We've got to
make it. If we're caught here in this grass we're dead before morning.
Now, all together, and don't stop. There we'll stay."

They advanced by steady rushes. The Indians knew. One by one they
vaulted upon their ponies and dashed across the route. The six shot
briskly and carefully, to clear the way. Fully twenty of the
saddle-pads were emptied by the time the riders had reached a patch of
tall grass which commanded the trail to the knoll. The ponies raced on
and were rounded up by the squaws who followed the fight.

That was good shooting, and seemed to discourage the other Indians from
trying for the grass, but they pressed hard behind, driving the white
men on. Rear as well as front had to be protected, and an hour was
consumed in approaching the knoll.

Then, with the knoll almost within grasp, up from the tall grass leaped
the twenty or more Indians su