ard during the earlier part of the evening went to
their rest. Charlie, as he dropped off to sleep, heard the footsteps
of the sentry outside and said to himself, half in jest, "The Wolf is
at the door."

But no wolf came to disturb their slumbers. The bright and cheerful
day, and the song of birds dispelled the gloom of the night, and fear
was lifted from the minds of the anxious settlers, some of whom,
separated from wives and children, were troubled with thoughts of
homes despoiled and crops destroyed. Just as they had finished
breakfast and were preparing for the march to the fort, now only two
or three miles away, a mounted man in the uniform of a United States
dragoon dashed up to the cabin, and, with a flourish of soldierly
manner, informed the company that the commanding officer at the post
had information that the Cheyennes, instead of crossing over to the
Republican as had been expected, or attacking the fort, had turned and
gone back the way they came. All was safe, and the settlers might go
home assured that there was no danger to themselves or their
families.

Having delivered this welcome message in a grand and semi-official
manner, the corporal dismounted from his steed, in answer to a
pressing invitation from Battles, and unbent himself like an ordinary
mortal to partake of a very hearty breakfast of venison, corn-bread,
and coffee. The company unslung their guns and rifles, sat down again,
and regaled themselves with pipes, occasional cups of strong coffee,
and yet more exhilarating tales of the exploits and adventures of
Indian slayers of the earlier time on the Kansas frontier. The great
Indian scare was over. Before night fell again, every settler had gone
his own way to his claim, glad that things were no worse, but groaning
at Uncle Sam for the niggardliness which had left the region so
defenceless when an emergency had come.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DISCOURAGEMENT.

Right glad were our settlers to see their log-cabin home peacefully
sleeping in the autumnal sunshine, as they returned along the familiar
trail from the river. They had gone back by the way of the Younkins
place and had partaken of the good man's hospitality. Younkins thought
it best to leave his brood with his neighbors on the Big Blue for
another day. "The old woman," he said, "would feel sort of scary-like"
until things had well blown over. She was all right where she was, and
he would try to get on alone for a while. So the