“Indians? I should say so. Only twenty miles from my cabin was an Indian village.” “Did they trouble you any?” asked Herbert, curiously. “Well, they tried to,” answered the colonel. “One night as I lay awake I heard stealthy steps outside, and peeping through a crevice between the logs just above the head of my bed--by the way, my bed was the skin of a bear I had myself killed--I could see a string of Utes preparing to besiege me.” “Were you afraid?” asked Herbert, a little mischievously, for he knew pretty well what the colonel would say. “Afraid!” repeated the colonel, indignantly. “What do you take me for? I have plenty of faults,” continued Col. Warner, modestly, “but cowardice isn't one of them. No, sir; I never yet saw the human being, white, black, or red, that I stood in fear of. But, as I was saying, the redskins collected around my cabin, and were preparing to break in the door, when I leveled my revolver and brought down their foremost man. This threw them into confusion. They retreated a little way, then advanced again with a horrible yell, and I gave myself up for lost. But I got in another shot, bringing down another warrior, this time the son of their chief. The same scene was repeated. Well, to make a long story short, I repulsed them at every advance, and finally when but three were left, they concluded that prudence was the better part of valor, and fled, leaving their dead and wounded behind them.” “How many were there of them?” asked Herbert. “Well, in the morning when I went out I found seven dead redskins, and two others lying at the point of death.” “That was certainly a thrilling adventure, Colonel,” said George Melville, smiling. “Egad, I should say so.” “I confess I don't care to meet with any such.” “Oh, no danger, no danger!” said the colonel, airily. “That is, comparatively speaking. In fact, the chief danger is of a different sort.” “Of the sleigh upsetting and tipping us out into some of the canyons, I suppose you mean?” “No, I speak of the gentlemen of the road--road agents as they are generally called.” “You mean highwaymen?” “Yes.” “Is there much danger of meeting them?” asked Melville. “Well, there's a chance. They are quite in the habit of attacking stage-coaches, and plundering the passengers. Sometimes they make rich hauls.” “That must be rather inconvenient to the passengers.” said Melville. “Can't the laws reach these outlaws?” “They don't seem to. Why, there are men who have been in the business for years, and have never been caught.” “Very true,” said a fellow traveler. “There's Jerry Lane, for instance. He has succeeded thus far in eluding the vigilance of the authorities.” “Yes,” said the colonel, “I once saw Lane myself. Indeed he did me the honor of relieving me of five hundred dollars.” “Couldn't you help it?” asked Herbert. “No; he covered me with his revolver, and if I had drawn mine I shouldn't have lived to take aim at him.” “Were you in a stage at the time?”