“Don’t you believe it, major!” cried the voice of the scout, as he dismounted in the middle of the enthusiastic throng. “What’s that, Cody?” “Strip the packhorse. I have brought you a-plenty of ammunition until reenforcements can be had.” “God bless you, Cody, for those words! You have saved us,” cried Major Baldwin, and there was a tremor in his voice as he glanced toward the group of women and children. He came down from the platform, and wrung the scout’s hand, as he asked: “In the name of Heaven, Cody, where did you get ammunition? Surely, you did not bring it all the way from Denver?” “No, indeed. I cached this over a year ago, major,” the scout replied cheerfully. “It will hold those red devils off until help arrives. You’ve sent to Fort Resistence, I presume?” “Sent, alas! But five men have died in the attempt.” “And not one got through?” cried Buffalo Bill. “Not one, Cody.” Buffalo Bill’s face assumed a look of anxiety--an expression not often seen there. “I had called for another volunteer when you were discovered coming. It was a splendid dash you made, Cody, and a desperate one as well.” “Aye,” said the scout gravely. “Desperate it was, indeed. But it must be made again. This ammunition I have brought you may last till morning; but the reds must be taken on the flank or they’ll hold you here till kingdom come! “I’ll try to get through again, Major Baldwin. You must have help,” declared the Border King sternly. CHAPTER III. THE KING OF THE SIOUX. Scarcely had Buffalo Bill uttered these cheering words when a babble of cries arose from the watchers on the towers and the platform over the gate. The redskins were gathering for a concerted charge, maddened by his escape and the loss of their ponies. Saving a few chiefs, beside Oak Heart and the White Antelope none of the reds were mounted. However, they were so enraged now that they ignored the whites’ accuracy of aim and came on within rifle-shot of the stockade. The ammunition brought on the packhorse led by the scout was hastily distributed among the defendants of the fort, with orders to throw no shot away. They were to shoot to kill, and Major Baldwin advised as did “Old Put” at the first great battle in United States history--the Battle of Bunker Hill--“to wait till they saw the whites of the enemies’ eyes!” Powder was as precious to that devoted band as gold-dust, and bullets were as valuable as diamonds. Major Baldwin took his position on the observation platform above the gate, Buffalo Bill by his side, repeating rifle in hand, and near them stood a couple of young officers as aids, and the bugler. All were armed with rifles, and every weapon for which there was no immediate need in the fort was loaded and ready. The women were in two groups--one ready to reload the weapons tossed them by the men, and the other to assist the surgeon with the wounded.