A belt of red warriors surrounded Fort Advance, cutting off all escape, or the approach of any assistance to the inmates of the stockade, outnumbering the able-bodied men under Major Baldwin’s command five to one! Among them rode the famous Oak Heart, inspiring his children to greater deeds of daring. By his side rode a graceful, beautiful girl of some seventeen years, whose face bore the unmistakable stamp of having other than Indian blood flowing in her veins. Long, luxurious hair, every strand of golden hue, contrasted strangely with her bronze complexion, while her eyes were sloe-black, and brilliant with every changing expression. This was White Antelope, a daughter of Oak Heart, and she held almost as much influence in the tribe as the grim old chief himself. Because of her beauty, indeed, she was almost worshiped as a goddess. At least, there was not a young buck in all the Utah Sioux who would not have attempted any deed of daring for the sake of calling the White Antelope his squaw. But while the red warriors were so inspired without the walls of the fortress, within was a much different scene. Major Baldwin’s resources were at an end. Many of his men were wounded, or ill; food was low; the wily redskins had cut off their water-supply; and there were but a few rounds of ammunition remaining. Fort Advance and its people were at a desperate pass, indeed! After a conference with his subordinate officers, Major Baldwin stood up in the midst of his haggard, powder-begrimed men. They were faithful fellows--many of them bore the scars of old Indian fights. But human endurance has its limit, and there is an end to man’s courage. “Will no man in this fort dare run the death-gantlet and bring aid to us?” cried the major. It was an appeal from the lips of a fearless man, one who had won a record as a soldier in the Civil War, and had made it good later upon the field as an Indian fighter. The demand was for one who would risk almost certain death to save a couple of hundred of his fellow beings, among them a score of women and children. The nearest military post where help might be obtained was forty miles away. Several brave men had already attempted to run the deadly gantlet, and had died before the horrified eyes of the fort’s inmates. It seemed like flinging one’s life away to venture into the open where, just beyond rifle-shot, the red warriors ringed the fort about. Such was the situation, and another attack was about due. The riding of the big chief and his daughter through the mass of Indians, was for the purpose of giving instructions regarding the coming charge. Ammunition in the fort might run out this time. Then over the barrier would swarm the redskins, and the thought of the massacre that would follow made even Major Baldwin’s cheek blanch.