Mr. Read, who had accompanied the expedition, was down; Colonel Keogh had vanished a long time before, and just at this critical juncture Captain Smith threw up his arms, and after reeling for an instant in his saddle, slipped to the ground. Yates saw that the closing scene was at hand. "Close up, men, close up! For God's sake, let every man keep his face towards them! The old Seventh will become famous!" he exclaimed. Yes, indeed, famous at the dear cost of the utter extermination of almost half its number. A yell, such as might have made the earth tremble, and the whole mass of warriors, mounted and on foot, came against the solid little phalanx like an avalanche. Had the rush been from one quarter alone, the remnant of cavalry would have been swept out of existence like a flash, scattered here and there among their enemies; but as the press came from all sides at once, it only served to crush them closer together. In union there is always strength. Had the hundred cavalrymen now left been divided into small groups, they would have been all killed before ten minutes had passed by, but in a solid body they could resist for over half an hour. Pandy Ellis was in the thick of it. His blood was thoroughly aroused, and I doubt if any man in that ill-fated command killed half as many red-skins as did this gray-haired ranger. When his rifle and pistols were empty, he slung the former to his back very coolly, and then, drawing the huge bowie-knife that had given him the name of Heavy Knife, he sailed in to conquer or die. Experienced in these matters, he had foreseen such a catastrophe, although even his vivid imagination had failed to paint such a serious calamity. Pandy had expected to be forced into a retreat, but such a thing as having the whole command utterly annihilated never entered his head, until they were pushed into the ravine trap. Even when he was fighting in the midst of the red-skins, a thought of the strange boy who had so suddenly disappeared among them, entered his head. Custer had called him Mason, and seemed to feel some affection for him. Pandy's eyes soon fell upon him. He had the general's revolver in his hand, and was seated on his horse, engaged in emptying it with commendable precision, making every shot tell. When the ranger looked again, a few moments later, the boy had disappeared. "Poor feller, he's done fur; an' yet it'll likely be ther fate o' us all," muttered Pandy, as he drove his keen blade home in the broad breast of a brave. At such a dread time as this the eye of a participant could not take in the entire scene. All that Pandy was sure of after Cooke fell pierced by many wounds, was that every member of that heroic band fought as if the strength and endurance of a dozen men was in his body. For every blue-coat who fell, at least two Indians bit the dust. Although the fight had grown more silent, now that nearly all the firearms were discharged, it was none the less deadly on that account.