"And leave you to sacrifice yourself for me?" was the indignant response of the brave girl. "It is a sacrifice I command you to take advantage of---- No! you must obey, for I shall only be taken prisoner, and you can send a relief party from the agency to rescue me." "Oh, can I?" and her face brightened. "Yes; and you the Indians would not give up," he added, significantly. "Here we are at the ridge, so keep right on, sparing your horse all you can." He slipped from the back of the horse as he spoke, at the same time striking the animal a sharp rap with his hat, which caused him to bound forward with increased speed. "Good-by! but I can never forgive myself for this sacrifice you make for me," came back to the young officer, as unable to check her horse on the run down the ridge, Emma Foshay went flying away, leaving Kit Carey in the trail to stand at bay against fearful odds. Knowing the country as he did, he had chosen well just where to leave the maiden to go on alone, for the nature of the ground was such just then that the Indians could be held at bay for a few minutes at least, while they could not make a flank movement of his position without a ride of half a mile out of their way. This would give Emma Foshay a long start, which, with the greater speed of her horse, she could hold. But what was to be his fate, Kit Carey did not know, though he was ready to meet it, be it what it might. CHAPTER IV. AT BAY AGAINST BIG ODDS. The pursuing redskins were all of a third of a mile from the ridge, when the double-weighted horse disappeared over it. With a delay of a few minutes, and relieved of his double load, Kit Carey was assured he could force the Indians to give up their chase after the young girl. A glance showed him that the animal was running well, and then he sprang to the shelter of some rocks and laid the two holster revolvers before him, for they were long range weapons. "This is for the forlorn hope," he said, grimly as he patted the smaller revolver in his sword-belt. On up the trail came the redskins at full speed, yelling like demons, and feeling confident of their prey. As the leaders rushed over the ridge they beheld a sight that was wholly unexpected to them. There over half a mile away was flying along the trail the horse upon which Emma Foshay was mounted, and right in their path, to bar their way, upright, determined, and at bay, a revolver in each hand, and but his head and shoulders seen above the rocks, stood Kit Carey. There was a look upon his face that was dangerous--a determination to fight it out right then and there against all odds. Kit Carey, a soldier of the Seventh, was at bay, and that meant that there would be no weakening on his part. Still he did not fire. He simply stood with revolvers ready, fingers on trigger, fearless, and not to be beaten back. The Sioux were unprepared for the fight. Had one man stopped there to fight them, or were there others ambushed among the rocks?