g, he went to his tent, standing his rifle against
the front tent pole.

Hearing a swift step the young sergeant reached the tent flap in time to
see a roughly-dressed, moccasined white man running away with Hal's Army
rifle.

Then, in the same instant, he heard a voice call:

"Throw your hands up there, man!"

"Holding me up with my own gun, are you?" raged Private Dietz.

"Yes; and we've got the other chap's lead-piece, too. Up with your
hands, both of you."

Hal dropped back behind the flap of his tent, peering out through a
little crack in the canvas.

There were now seven men outside, all strangers, all rough-looking and
all moccasined.

Between them they had the three rifles belonging in camp that day.

"Bring out that other fellow, the kid sergeant," commanded the same
voice, after Dietz and Johnson, hopelessly surprised, had hoisted their
hands skyward.

"Humph!" growled Sergeant Hal, his eyes snapping. "I don't like the idea
of surrendering the camp that I command!"

CHAPTER XIX

WHEN THE LAST CARTRIDGE WAS GONE

WHATEVER was to be done would have to be done in a very few seconds.

For one of the rifle-armed strangers had started briskly for the tent
that concealed the boyish sergeant.

"Whatever happens, he isn't going to get me alive, if I can help it!"
quivered young Overton. "I'd sooner be killed at once than disgrace my
chevrons."

Two swift steps backward, and Sergeant Hal caught up his revolver.

With this in his right hand, and stepping panther-like, he returned to
the fallen tent flap.

The approaching man with the rifle bent forward, sweeping the tent flap
aside.

"Come out, Sarge!" he ordered.

"If I have to," retorted Hal, setting his teeth.

Grasping the revolver by the barrel end, he sprang through, before the
other fellow could comprehend what was happening.

"Look out, there!" yelled one of the invaders, coming up behind the man
with the rifle.

It was too late.

Crack! It was a fearful blow, the butt of the heavy Army revolver
landing on the fellow's jaw and fracturing it.

"O-o-o-h!"

It was a wail of fearful agony, but under the circumstances Sergeant
Overton could not afford to regret it.

The stricken man staggered back.

Hal poised for a bound, intending to snatch the rifle from him.

As the fellow dropped back, however, his companion coming up behind him
was in time to snatch the rifle, turning the muzzle on Overton.

There being not a sec