The old lady, however, always looked forward to such an outing as a welcome break in the monotony of her life at the Creek, and would not be baulked of her treat; though, in the morning, she consented to take Sam, a reliable negro servant, as escort. The Frezno River store was but a four hours' drive distant; and she ought to be able to return soon after dark came on, at latest. In the middle of the day a digger rushed excitedly into the store. He had just returned from a "claim" six miles away, whither he had gone to compare some quartz. "Where's all the boys? Not knocked off for the noon spell yet?" he cried. "Some of 'em'll soon be round," said Savage, who was alone in the store. "What's the trouble?" "Trouble 'nough. The redskins have come down on First Creek, killed a dozen of 'em, and cleared out with all the powder an' nuggets they could see their way to handling." Savage turned pale; First Creek was on the direct road to his other store. "Where are they got to now?" he gasped. "Lord knows. It was a nigger as told me, just afore he died; he seen it all, an' got one o' their bullets into him. All the rest of the diggers have made tracks for 'Frisco, to fetch out the volunteers. Never had a chance, so the nigger said. There was 'most three hundred o' the reptiles, an' not more'n twenty of our boys, an' all of 'em took by surprise; shot down afore they could pick up their guns." Savage gave the frightened man a drink of spirits, then said resolutely: "See an' muster as many o' the boys as ye can.--Here come some of 'em. Tell the others if they don't wipe off this score, our lives won't be worth a cent out here. My poor old mother's over at the other store, and I'm off to fetch her back." Within half an hour fifty diggers had been collected, and, after a brief discussion, it was arranged that forty of them should accompany Savage on horseback while the others guarded the store, which, just now, was less likely to be attacked than the more distant one. Riding at full gallop they accomplished the distance in a little over two hours; and even that was two hours too late. A roar of futile anger arose from the miners as they pulled up their horses. The store was in flames, and already half consumed; at the end, by the stables, was Savage's van, minus the horses, and across the front-board of it lay the faithful black, shot dead, but still clutching a discharged rifle; while round about the doorway were the bodies of the manager, his two assistants, and old Mrs. Savage. Heedless of everything else, her son rushed to her side; then uttered a strange little cry of relief as she opened her eyes and sat up painfully. Blood was running from her shoulder.