"These yere savages is plenty hostile," contradicted the stranger, "and don't you make no mistake thar. I jest nat'rally lifts that pinto offen them yisterday," and he jerked his thumb toward the black-and-white pony in the rear. "And you camps!" cried Alfred, in pure astonishment. "You must be plumb locoed!" "I ain't had no sleep in three nights," explained the other, in apology. Alfred's opinion of the man rose at once. "Yo' has plumb nerve to tackle a hold-up under them circumstances," he observed. "I sets out to git that thar stage; and I gits her," replied the agent, doggedly. The savages appeared on the next rise, barely a half-mile away, and headed straight for the two men. "I reckon yere's where you takes a hand," remarked Alfred simply, and, riding alongside, he released the other's arms by a single slash of his knife. The man slipped from his horse and stretched his arms wide apart and up over his head in order to loosen his muscles. Alfred likewise dismounted. The two, without further parley, tied their horses' noses close to their front fetlocks, and sat down back to back on the surface of the prairie. Each was armed with one of the new 44-40 Winchesters, just out, and with a brace of Colt's revolvers, chambering the same-sized cartridge as the rifle. "How you heeled?" inquired Alfred. The stranger took stock. "Fifty-two," he replied. "Seventy for me," vouchsafed Alfred. "I goes plenty organised." Each man spread a little semicircle of shells in front of him. At the command of the two, without reloading, were forty-eight shots. When the Indians had approached to within about four hundred yards of the white men they paused. Alfred rose and held his hand toward them, palm outward, in the peace sign. His response was a shot and a chorus of yells. "I tells you," commented the hold-up. Alfred came back and sat down. The savages, one by one, broke away from the group and began to circle rapidly to the left in a constantly contracting spiral. They did a great deal of yelling. Occasionally they would shoot. To the latter feature the plainsmen lent an attentive ear, for to their trained senses each class of arm spoke with a different voice--the old muzzle-loader, the Remington, the long, heavy Sharp's 50, each proclaimed itself plainly. The mere bullets did not interest them in the least. Two men seated on the ground presented but a small mark to the Indians shooting uncleaned weapons from running horses at three or four hundred yards' range. "That outfit is rank outsiders," concluded Alfred. "They ain't over a dozen britch-loaders in the lay-out." "Betcher anything you say I drops one," offered the stranger, taking a knee-rest. "Don't be so plumb fancy," advised Alfred, "but turn in and help." He was satisfied with the present state of affairs, and was hacking at the frozen ground with his knife. The light snow on the ridge-tops had been almost entirely drifted away. The stranger obeyed.