Charlie looked at Lydia closely and his voice changed as he said, "You got hurt, Lydia? I'm sorry." "Sorry! You damned brute!" raved Billy. "I tell you, call off this row!" The two young men glared at each other. Afterglow and firelight revealed a ferocity in Billy's face and a cool hatred in Charlie's that made Lydia gasp. The shouting of the mob, the beating of the drum was receding toward the road. The flag snapped in the night wind. Billy put his face closer to Charlie's. The muscles of his jaw knotted and his hands clenched and unclenched. "Call it off!" he growled. Charlie returned Billy's stare for a long moment. Then sullenly, slowly, he turned and threw out across the night a long, shrill cry. He gave it again and again. At each repetition the noise of the mob grew less, and shortly panting, feverish-eyed bucks began to struggle into the light around the pole. Then, without a word, Billy led Lydia away. The Indians passing them shook their bows at them but they were unmolested. "Can you walk, Lydia? Do you think you're badly hurt?" asked Billy. "I'm not hurt except for this cut on my head. And I guess I'm scared and bruised from being stepped on. That's all." "All! To think of me not scratched and you hurt! Your father ought to horsewhip me!" "You saved me from being trampled to death!" cried Lydia, indignantly. "Oh there's the auto." There it was, indeed, with old Lizzie standing in the tonneau, wringing her hands, and Amos and Levine, dust covered and disheveled, guarding the car with clubs. They all shouted with relief when they saw the two. Lydia by now had wiped the blood from her face. "Billy," cried Levine, "could you run the car and the two women down the road while Amos and I help the Agent get order here? The worst seems to be over, for some reason." "Billy got Charlie Jackson to call the Indians in," said Lydia. "Good work!" exclaimed Amos. "Are you both all right?" "Yes," answered Lydia. "Go on! Billy'll take care of us." "I'll wait for you at the willows, a mile below Last Chance," said Billy. "Land," said Lizzie, as the car swung through the hurrying whites, to the road. "About one picnic a lifetime like this, would do me!" Billy was an indifferent chauffeur but he reached the willows without mishap. "Now," he said, "come out in front of the lamps, Lydia, till I see what happened to you." "For heaven's sake, did Lydia get hurt?" screamed Lizzie. "Don't fuss about me," said Lydia crossly, not offering to follow the other two out of the car. Billy turned, lifted her down bodily and led her around to the lamps, while he told Lizzie what had happened. The cut on the scalp was slight. Billy washed it out with water from the brook back of the willows and Lizzie produced a clean pocket handkerchief with which to bind it. Then they went back to the car and ate their belated supper. After a time, Lizzie, who had the back seat to herself, began to snore comfortably.