Another Indian was there in the favorite position, scarcely three yards from the driver, and aiming his arrow. The captain sprang for the front, leveled his revolver--it was empty! So: "Hey! Bang!" he shouted. Ha, ha! Down lay the Indian, low upon his pony's neck; he hammered hard with his heels and away he scoured. The captain sprawled for the rear once more, and tried to load. How those mules ran! How the lieutenant yelled and whipped! How that wagon jolted! And his powder spilled when he poured it into his old-style cap-and-ball pistol. He had not succeeded in loading a single chamber when the lieutenant again called. He was constantly in trouble, poor Lieutenant Hallowell. The Indians knew that he couldn't shoot. "Off to the left, Cap! Hurry!" Still another Indian, making ready; occupying the same old spot. The captain hurried; leveled the revolver; shouted "Bang!" But the trick did not work. This Indian was wiser. He only grinned and notched his arrow, and took his time for a sure shot. Something had to be done to get rid of him. Angry clear through, the captain leaned as far as he dared and hurled the revolver. Good! The heavy barrel landed full upon the Indian's ribs, cut a long gash--and much astonished the Indian veered off for repairs. Only one revolver was left, and it had been emptied. But the captain was given no pause, to load. "I'm hit again, Cap!" the lieutenant called. "Whereabouts now!" "In the hand." An arrow was fastened to the base of the thumb of his whip hand. Its shaft waggled, but its head remained firm. "Shall I pull it out?" "No. Can't stop. Hi! Gwan! Yip! Yip with you!" The lieutenant's hand did not falter, as he plied the whip. Presently the arrow flopped free and was gone, taking some of the flesh with it. The Indians seemed to have shot most of their arrows, but were not done. Now one of them rode to the head of the left mule and commenced poking with his lance, to force the team into the hedge of tall, stiff sunflowers that lined the trail. Lieutenant Hallowell hauled with all his might on the rein; Captain Booth climbed forward to the step opposite the Indian and kicked the nearest mule. He threw his revolver. It did not strike the Indian, but it struck the pony, and the pony ran away. Other Indians promptly came up. The captain threw both sabers, and both scabbards. Wagon and mules were being surrounded, and still more Indians were pursuing and closing in rapidly. The captain had an idea. He tossed out his suitcase. The Indians behind stopped, to inspect. They slit the suit-case open. In a moment one was wearing the officer's sash tied around his head; another was wearing the captain's dress-coat, another his best shirt, another his undershirt and another his drawers! It was a funny sight. But others came on. "What they doing?" gasped the lieutenant. "Wearing the clothes from my valise. Out goes yours, next." "All right. Anything to gain time."