"No, I'll tell you frankly, that I believe we will run upon some band of redskins, but with what treatment at their hands I cannot tell. Be ready to ride like the wind, or halt and wheel for a race, Miss Foshay, for we had better run for it than trust to an Indian's humor just now." "You are captain, sir, so give your orders to run, or fight and I obey," was the plucky response of the young girl. Kit Carey smiled and remarked: "I like your pluck, Miss Foshay, so will frankly tell you that if aught should happen to me, ride straight east until you strike the broad trail to the agency. Then wheel to the left and your horse will carry you in all right, never fear." "But what could happen to you, Lieutenant Carey?" "Well, should the Indians jump us, and crowd too close, I will halt to hold them at bay, and you must ride on--see! Here are the dispatches, and as a bearer of military dispatches, you must push on and obey orders." "But you speak as though you had a premonition of evil," said Emma Foshay, as Kit Carey placed in her saddle pocket the dispatches. "You can reach camp, Miss Foshay, and to have you do so I must hold the redskins in check, and come in later." "And you expect me to desert you, sir?" "It will not be a desertion, for you obey orders. Ah! it is as I feared," and just then dashed over the top of a distant rise half a hundred mounted redskins. CHAPTER III. THE SACRIFICE. The young officer had not been mistaken in his premonition of danger. He had read the "signs" aright, and was sure that the band of Indians now coming toward them, were haunting the trails to cut off communication with Colonel Crandall's post, or reinforcements going from there toward the agency. A few settlers' homes had been burned, several wagon-trains attacked, cattle run off and horses stolen, with here and there a fatal shot fired, yet there had been no open warfare yet. Still Kit Carey knew that a chance to strike their pale-face foes was all that the Sioux needed, and he was well aware that they would do so now, if they supposed it to their interest to prevent a communication that might tell against them from reaching the military commander then pressing troops to the field with all dispatch to put them down. With her army jacket and her hat, at a distance Emma Foshay would be taken for an officer, Kit Carey well understood; but he determined to push on, as he dared not trust to the Indians, not knowing their humor. If he attempted to fly then they would soon show their intentions by opening fire, and in such case to run for it was all that could be done. "We will not make their closer acquaintance, Miss Foshay, but do what the Confederates used to call skedaddle. If they fire on us, then our horses must show their speed." "I am ready, Lieutenant Carey," was the calm rejoinder of the young girl, and the two horses bounded away together.