Sabers, red with human gore, were flashed in the sun's bright rays, and urged to their deadly work by arms that seemed iron in their endurance. Lances, tomahawks and keen knives opposed them, and now and then a rifle added its weight to the side of the Indians. On each occasion, some poor fellow would totter in his saddle, and finding himself going, show the spirit that imbued his nature by making a last sweeping blow at the enemy who held such a tight grip on them all. It was horrible to see how that devoted little band continually diminished in numbers. There were hardly forty left now, and in ten minutes these had become less than twenty. The end was near at hand. Yates still lived, although the only commissioned officer. His face was very white, and streaked with blood, so that old Pandy, still fighting like a hero, hardly recognized the man who touched his arm. "Old friend, try to escape and carry the news to Crook and Reno. If you succeed, tell them to let my folks know how I died, and that my last were of them. The old seventh has made a record that----" It was never finished; the fatal bullet came, and as brave a man as ever presented his face to the foe succumbed to the inevitable. Pandy seemed to hesitate an instant, then his powder-begrimed face lit up. "I'll do it, bust my buttons. Might az wal die tryin' it az hyar. Good-bye, boys; I'm in fur death, or ter carry ther news ter Crook. Nancy, away wid ye," and the knife point sent the animal bounding among the Indians. Ten minutes later and all was over. The ravine looked like a slaughter-pen in the daylight, and even when the Sioux, glutted with blood, searched among the heaps of slain for any who might live, the sun sank out of sight as if ashamed to look upon such a horrid scene, and a merciful darkness hurried to close over the ravine of death. CHAPTER VI. BOLLY WHERRIT'S BATTLE ON A SMALL SCALE. When Bolly Wherrit threw himself upon the guard at his prison lodge, he was without a single weapon. Besides this his hands and wrists were considerably lacerated by the cruel glass that had been the means of his gaining freedom, but he had no doubt regarding his ability to overcome the fellow, especially as he had the advantage of a surprise. Finding himself so suddenly seized by the throat, the guard turned like a flash and attempted to use his arm, thinking to get the hunter in a bear's clasp, and then hold him till assistance came. He counted without his host, however, as many folks are in the habit of doing. Raised in the school of nature, very nearly the whole of his life being spent upon the plains in active warfare with the savage denizens thereof, it was not likely that Bolly would in his declining years lose the prompt discretion and agility that had marked his whole checkered career.