From its top,
flying pennon-like in the wind, was a scarlet square. And at one corner
of this, dangling to and fro in horrid suggestiveness, swung a
shrivelled patch that held a lock of hair.

CHAPTER XXIII

AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT

Rifle in hand, forgetful of crutches, bewildered by sleep, the
section-boss came diving through the blanket partition to answer her
call. "Wha's matter? Wha's matter?" he demanded thickly, rubbing hard at
his eyes to unclog their sight.

Dallas leaned in the doorway, facing out. Her shoulders were bent
forward heavily, as if she, too, were only half awake. Her head was
rested against a casing. She lifted it when she felt him beside her.
"Well, dad," she answered grimly, "it's Indians, this time, and--I
reckon they got us stampeded." She smiled a little, ruefully, and
pointed.

Winking into the light, Lancaster followed her pointing, and saw the
pole. Up jerked his chin, as if from a blow on the goatee. He stared
wildly. His jaw dropped. "W'y, Lawd!" he breathed perplexedly, and his
chest heaved beneath the grey flannel of his shirt. Slowly he hobbled
forward in his bare feet, using the gun for a prop. Before the pole, he
halted, and began tousling his grizzled crown with trembling fingers.
Overhead, the scalp-weighted rag swung to and fro in the breeze, waving
him its sinister salute.

Gradually, his brain cleared, and into it there trickled a hint of the
pole's meaning and purpose. He stopped ruffling his hair, and caught up
the Sharps in both hands. Then, all at once, the trickle swelled to a
foaming torrent of suspicion, that carried him close to the truth.
Maddened, cursing, he dropped the gun and fell upon the sapling, pried
it furiously from the sod, and smashed it into a dozen bits.

To Dallas, watching him in silence, the destruction of the pole was a
sore reminder. For, better than ever before, she realised that her
father could only accomplish the hasty, childish things; that beyond
these, he was powerless. Without a doubt, she must ask elsewhere for
aid.

As he came limping and raging back to her, she hurried forward to
relieve him of the rifle and to guide his crippled feet. "Dad, I think
it's about time we had a' understanding at the Fort," she said quietly,
and took him by an arm.

He brought up short and wrung himself out of her grasp. "Th' Fort! th'
Fort! th' Fort!" he repeated in a frenzy. "Lawd-a-mighty, Dallas, y'
make me sick!"

"It's Indians," she rep