"Bat and I've about decided that those fellows have quit. We've given them the slip. They're not likely to risk attacking us in the high country. So you can take a breathing spell. We've a hard trip ahead." "Dismount," Lieutenant Sibley ordered. The word was welcome. The horses were badly winded, and the men were hungry and thirsty, for they had had an early breakfast and the sun beat down hotly. Noon camp was made here in a little park, where amidst the surrounding trees the grass grew long and the flowers nodded. The sweaty horses were unsaddled and picketed short, to graze; coffee was set upon small fires, to boil; sentries had been posted, and the other men were permitted to stretch out, in the shade. Everything seemed very peaceful, but--! At any rate, they all might talk and laugh and sip their coffee and doze, and believe that they had outwitted the Sioux. In about an hour and a half they saddled up and rode on, still heading from the Sioux and into the mountains. Where they were going, nobody knew save Scouts Gruard and Big Bat. Frank led, with Big Bat close behind him. Then came the lieutenant, and Reporter Finerty, and in long single file the troopers, with Packer John Becker closing the rear. It was a splendid country, of clustered pines, scattered rocks and huge ledges, sunny, flowery parks, cold streams in the valleys, and tremendous, long slopes rising, before, to the white crest of the snowy main range of the Big Horn Mountains. In mid-afternoon they were leisurely winding through a park lying between the front range and the main range. There was timber on the left, or south-west; rocks and timber on the right; and timber before, with the snow caps towering above. Not a sound had been heard, to signal danger--when suddenly John Becker spurred up along the file, from the rear. "The Indians, lieutenant! Here they are!" What! Yes! War bonnets were moving rapidly through the trees and high rocks, quartering behind on the right. The troopers quickened, to close their intervals--for the column had strung out. Every hand dropped to its carbine butt. "Keep well to the left, against that timber," shouted Scout Gruard. "Bang-g-g!" He had been answered by a volley. There were Indians among the rocks and trees, on the right, within two hundred yards. The bullets whined and stung; wounded horses reared and plunged--Reporter Finerty's mount stumbled to its knees. "To the left, men! Quick!" Half wheeling, they dashed for the edge of the timber, there; gained it safely; under cover of the branches sprang to earth and faced about, guns ready. Lieutenant Sibley took command. "Give them a few shots, sergeant, till we can tie our horses." At the carbine reports the Indians in sight, out in the park, dived for shelter. "Now tie your horses short, to the trees, men." That was done.