"Run 'em whites off our reservation!" shouted half a dozen young bucks. Lydia was trembling but cool. "Good for them! Oh, Billy, good for them!" she exclaimed. He did not reply. His great body circled about her, with shoulder and elbow buffeting off the surging crowd. Thus far the whites had taken the proceedings as a joke. Then a white woman screamed,-- "Run! It's a massacre!" "Massacre" is a horrifying word to use to whites in an Indian country. Men and women both took up the cry,-- "It's a massacre! Run!" And the great crowd bolted. Like pursuing wolves, the Indians followed, beating the laggards with their bows, shouting exultantly. Billy caught Lydia round the waist and held her in front of him as well as he could, and for a few moments the rush of the mob carried them on. Then Lydia heard Billy's voice in her ear. "If this isn't stopped, it _will_ be a massacre. We've got to find Charles Jackson." "We may be killed trying to find him!" Lydia cried. "We've got to make a try for it, anyhow," replied Billy. "Brace your shoulders back against my chest. I'll try to stop." They succeeded in holding themselves steadily for a moment against the mob and in that moment, Billy caught a screaming squaw by the arm. "Susie, where's Charlie Jackson?" She jerked her thumb back toward the flag pole and twisted away. "All right! Now we'll make for the pole, Lydia, get behind me and put your arms round my waist. Hang on, for heaven's sake." Lydia did hang on for a few moments. But the flight was now developing into a free for all fight. And before she knew just how it happened, Lydia had fallen and feet surged over her. She buried her face in her arms. It seemed an age to her before Billy had snatched her to her feet. In reality she was not down for more than two minutes. Billy swung her against his chest with one arm and swung out with his other, shouting at Indians and whites alike. "You damned beasts! You dirty damned beasts." Lydia, bruised and shaken, clung to him breathlessly, then cried, "Go ahead, Billy!" He glanced down at her and saw a streak of blood on her forehead. His face worked and he began to sob and curse like a madman. "They've hurt you, the hellhounds! I'll kill somebody for this." Kicking, striking with his free arm, oaths rolling from his lips, he burst through the crowd and rushed Lydia to the free space about the flagpole where Charlie Jackson stood coolly watching the proceedings. Billy shook his fist under the Indian's nose. "Get down there and call the pack off or I'll brain you." Jackson shrugged his shoulders, calmly. "Let 'em have their fun. It's their last blowout. I hope they do kill Levine and Marshall." Lydia pulled herself free of Billy. Her voice was trembling, but she had not lost her head. "Call them off, Charlie. It'll just mean trouble in the end for all of you if you don't."