Throughout this desperate affray, which had not occupied many minutes, the weaker members of the community, frozen with fear, crouched shudderingly within their shelters. These helpless women knew what terrible fate awaited them in the event of the savages proving victorious, and to their appalled senses the hideous war-whoop, the thunder of charging hoofs, the shouts and the wild crashing of shots seemed as a very hell opening before them. Shivering in her well-padded waggon, poor little Mrs Winthrop was in a pitiable state of terror and anxiety. "Oh, Yseulte, I wish I could be as brave as you," she moaned, clinging to her friend as to a final refuge. "How do you manage it? Tell me." "I don't know," answered the girl, with something of a warrior-light shining in her eyes. "Only I'm sure we shall win." The calm, steadfast tones conveyed to the distracted, terrified creature, as she herself phrased it, "tons of comfort." Then the tumult had ceased. The mist was rolling back, unfolding heaven's vault of brilliant blue, and in less than half an hour the whole country-side stood revealed. Not an Indian was in sight. Slain ponies lay around, and here and there a dark clot of gore showed where a warrior had fallen. "Will they come again?" said Winthrop, turning to Vipan. Many an ear hung upon the answer. "No," replied the latter, tranquilly, beginning to sponge out his rifle. "I never saw a finer charge than that last, and they know perfectly that if it wouldn't carry the corral nothing will. They intended a surprise, you see, but it broke down completely, and unless they try the palaver trick we shall see no more of them just yet. But we shall have to keep a bright lookout, for depend upon it, they won't let us be out of sight long--for some time at any rate." "Waal, boys," drawled the tall Kentuckian, "I reckon we'll jest squat around a bit, and be darn thankful." "That's so, Elias," assented his martial spouse, diving into the waggon to lug out her brood by the ears, as if nothing had happened. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. TRUCE. It was afternoon, and quiet had settled down upon the emigrants' camp once more. While its inmates were despatching their much-needed breakfasts Vipan and Oregon Dave had sallied forth upon a scout. They soon returned, reporting the whole party of Indians to be retiring over a distant range of hills some twelve miles to the eastward. So, pickets being posted to give warning should they think better of it and return, the cattle were driven down to the water and were now enjoying a graze under the watchful supervision of half-a-dozen men.