Every second the number of opponents swelled, as those upon the heights came down upon the scene of action; and still the little band went on, trampling down and riding over those who would not get out of the way. As a single man in a crowd is pushed hither and thither, like a feather floating on the water and at the mercy of the wind, so Custer and his command were drawn away from the river. Everywhere was their trail marked by the dead, until it came to the slaughter-pen. After leaving the water, the remnant of the gallant Seventh attempted to make a break out of this infuriated mass, but the tide had set in against them. Five, ten minutes of this awful fighting, and then there came a time when retreat was utterly out of the question, much as they might have wished it. The Sioux had forced them into a ravine, and here was enacted the closing scene of the bloody drama. Custer saw the inevitable finale; hope of a rescue there could be none, as Reno had received positive orders, and Terry and Crook were far away in different directions. In this ravine they must die, then. "My God!" exclaimed Custer, "we are trapped like foxes. To stay here means death. Forward, men, forward. Down with the hounds!" Wounds counted as nothing at this dread moment; so long as a man could keep his seat, he was in good luck; it was the death bullet that told. "My Heavens! the general's shot!" shouted a soldier close to Pandy Ellis. Custer was reeling in his saddle; the film of death already showed itself in those clear eyes, but bracing himself, he discharged his revolver full in the face of Black Sculley, the renegade, who had given him his death-wound. The scoundrel rolled over with a curse; Custer's last shot had done its work. As the general fell from his saddle he was caught in the arms of the boy hunter, who had dismounted. While the awful din raged around, and men were covering one another with blood, the soul of as gallant an officer as ever drew sword passed away to a better world. Custer died at the head of his command. CHAPTER V. HOW THE COMMAND PAID FOR IMMORTALITY. Their valiant leader lying dead upon the ground, and men continually dropping on all sides, the remnant of the officers saw that the game was up. There was not one chance in a thousand for their escape, and the only thing that was left to them was to fight to the last gasp, to "pile the field with Moslem slain," and die as did Bowie and his friends at the Alamo, with the bodies of their enemies forming a breast-high bulwark around them. "Down with the redfiends!" It was brave Colonel Cook's last words, for hardly had he spoken before a lance knocked the red sword from his hand. Eager hands seemed to clutch at him on all sides, and in an instant he had disappeared, being pulled down among that surging crowd of savage devils.