As they drew up in a circle around his home, Kit Carey leaped from his horse, and the chief and the young officer met face to face in the door. Quickly fell the words of the officer, spoken in the Sioux language: "The great chief, Tatanka Yotanke, has broken faith with the Great White Chief Father, for his people even now are starting on the war-path. Sitting Bull is my prisoner. He must go with me dead or alive." The eyes of the Sioux chief blazed in their fury, and his hands dropped, one upon a revolver, the other on a knife in his belt; while from his lips came a few fierce words. But the revolver of the commander of the Indian cavalry was covering his heart, and he dared not move. Then came a quick command, and the Sioux chief was seized, disarmed, and fairly thrown upon the back of a pony, for the whole camp was wild with excitement now. Leaping into his saddle, Kit Carey seized the rein of Sitting Bull's horse, and cried: "Come!" As the daring redskin soldiers, under their dashing young commander, closed in around the captive, a yell of fury, wild, startling, terrible, went up from the warriors, who had been almost stunned by the sudden capture of their chief, and then in a voice like a trumpet, burst from the lips of Sitting Bull a ringing command. He had called to his faithful braves to rescue him, his voice had sounded the tocsin of war to the death, and if the Indians were to be swept off the face of the earth they must die in a noble cause. And that weird, wild call to rescue was heard, and responded to. But too well did the daring lieutenant know its meaning, and driving his spurs deep into the flanks of his own horse, he pricked the pony of Sitting Bull with his sword, and grasping more firmly the rein, dashed on in the flight for life. But the Sioux braves were upon the gallant band like an avalanche of death, an Indian police officer upon the other side of Sitting Bull was shot through the heart, and that one crack of a rifle opened the crash of battle. "We must beat them back! Turn your Winchesters upon them. Fire!" The order of the gallant soldier of the Seventh was obeyed, as the rush of the braves was made upon the little band fighting against such desperate odds, and then the death-knell of the mighty medicine man rang out, for in the battle to rescue their chief, he received a bullet in his heart. CHAPTER VI. SOLDIERS TO THE RESCUE. "Who fired that shot?" Clear and stern rang out the question from the lips of Lieutenant Carey, as he beheld the great Sioux chief reel in his saddle from a shot fired by one of the Indian police. To take Sitting Bull alive had been his orders, and only in case of direst necessity to fire a shot. It was true that Sitting Bull had called his redskins to the rescue, yet the gallant officer and the Indian guard were in full flight, well mounted, and could have, perhaps, escaped with their prisoner.