a place
to scale. From there came tramping and shouts, and they saw, over them,
at either side, a line of downward-pointing guns!

Huddling together, the centre of a complete surround, wounded and
unwounded cast aside their bows and flung up their hands in the peace
sign.

"Give 'em hell, boys!" screamed a trooper.

But the trumpet interfered.

Close to the Throat was a group that had neither eyes nor ears for the
capture. Here was the warrior, Red Moon, calm-faced, bearing his agony
bravely, choking back even a murmur of pain. Over him were Lounsbury and
Dallas, bent for a final look and word.

"Dear old fellow," murmured Lounsbury. "You gave 'em a good fight
to-day. You saved her."

The surgeon was beside them now, hastily examining. The shaft was not in
the wound; it had fallen. But the poisoned barb remained. He shook his
head.

"No use, John," he whispered, and tiptoed away.

Lounsbury leaned farther down. "Charley," he said, "you're going now,
old man. Say good-by to us."

The Indian moved one hand feebly.

Lounsbury understood. He lifted and shook it gently. "Brave Red Moon,"
he said.

The savagery was all gone from the Indian's eyes; they were wonderfully
soft and un-Indian in their expression. He seemed, all at once, to be
thinking of something far off. And his look was adoring.

Dallas could not speak to him, but she, too, shook him gently by the
hand.

He settled his head upon Lounsbury's arm, as a child might have done.
Then he looked up at Dallas. "Friend--friend," he whispered softly,
smiled, and with the touch of the sun on his upturned face, he slept.

CHAPTER XL

SOME ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS

Lounsbury was stretched in the hammock on Captain Oliver's gallery, his
bandaged head on a pillow, his left arm resting in a sling. Leaping
about, almost upon him, and imperilling the stout ropes that swung the
hammock, were five of the captain's seven.

Twenty-four hours were gone since, having lashed four Indian dead among
the branches of the burial trees, troopers, Sioux, and rescued had
returned to a post that was half in ashes. Now, guards tramped the high
board walk as before, keeping strict watch of their sulky prisoners; the
ramshackle ferry-boat, dragged away from the bar that had halted her,
was tied up at her landing again; across the upper end of the parade,
grey tents had replaced the barracks; while, farther on, teams and
scrapers were clearing away smoking ruins and dum