that
had been waving farewells sorrowfully dispersed. The tom-tom was still,
and no wail of squaws was borne across the river. Then, Dallas again
started up Ben and Betty.

And now a sudden fit of depression came over her. The dew sparkled on
the grass, the air was soft, the breeze caressing, the sun was warm on
her shoulders. Yet with all the brightness on every hand, a sense of
uneasiness would not be shaken off.

She found herself reining often to look toward Clark's. Midway of the
eastern ridge was a long, buff blotch--the crossing of the coulee road.
Would a horse and rider pass across that spot to-day? Probably not. A
wave of loneliness and of undeserved injury swept her, welling the tears
to her eyes.

She was halted close to the corn-land when cheery singing reached her.
Marylyn had left the shack and was going riverward, dawdling with
studied slowness.

"_We saw the Indians coming,
We heard them give a yell,
My feelings at that moment
No mortal tongue could tell._

_We heard the bugle sounding,
The Captain gave command--
'To arms! to arms! my comrades,
And by your ponies stand!'_

_We fought there full nine hours
Before the strife was o'er.
Such sight of dead and wounded
I ne'er had seen before--_

_Five hundred noble Rangers
As ever saw the West
Were buried by their comrades,
May peaceful be their rest!_"

Dallas shivered. The song suggested a cruel end for the gay troopers who
had just gone forth. "Marylyn!" she called.

The younger paused to look back.

"Be careful, honey. Keep in sight."

Marylyn nodded, threw a kiss, and strolled on.

All day, Dallas tried to work away her troublesome thoughts. When she
had known that an Indian was signalling from Medicine Mountain, she had
felt no fear. Why was she growing fearful now? For it was fear--not any
mere nervousness, or sadness over the marching of the troops. It was
even more: There was a haunting feeling that something was going to
happen! There was a terrible certainty weighing upon her--a certainty of
coming harm!

Toward night, she began to watch about her--southward, to the shanty of
the Norwegian; eastward, to where the tent of the Sioux Falls man had
been; west, where the setting sun touched the sentinel guns on the
bluffs; along the coulee, where the darkness always crept first.

She found herself examining the tops of distant rises. Medicine Mounta