A patch of timber was before to the left. The general had halted; also halted the six Indians. The general rode in a circle, for a parley; the six Indians paid no attention. Now here came Sergeant Butler, back with a message from the general. He saluted Lieutenant Tom. “The general’s compliments, and he would suggest that you keep a sharp eye on that bunch of trees, yonder,” said the sergeant. “Very well,” responded Lieutenant Tom. Sergeant Butler galloped off. “In my opinion, that brush is full of Sioux, and those six bucks would be only too glad to lead us past,” said Adjutant Calhoun, to Lieutenant Tom. “The general had better join us or we him,” answered the lieutenant, gazing anxiously. “He’s too near. He’s liable——” but from all the detachment issued a sudden cry. The six Sioux had wheeled, and were charging, and from the timber patch had burst, as if at a breath, fully three hundred others. At full speed they came, whooping and firing, and in splendid line. Evidently these Sioux were fine warriors. All eyes leaped to the general. Around he had whirled, around had whirled the sergeant, and back they were spurring for dear life. They were three hundred yards from the timber, almost opposite to them, and two hundred yards from the soldiers. On sped the line of Sioux, dividing, part to head off the general, part to ride to rear of the detachment and head off Captain Moylan, coming from behind. “Prepare to fight on foot!” It was Lieutenant Tom’s clear voice. From the saddle swung three men from each squad, leaving Number Four to hold the horses. “As skirmishers, men! Quick!” and “Company—halt!” issued the commands. There was no time for regulation orders. Out in front of the horses had run the dismounted men, to halt in loose line, kneel, and without waiting for more orders, to aim. “Don’t fire, men, until I give the word,” spoke Lieutenant Tom, revolver in hand, behind the line. “Aim low.” Racing in toward one another the Sioux, and the general and Sergeant Butler, seemed about to join. But the general and the sergeant were beating. They would arrive first. Good! The Sioux were well within range. Their war-paint and their feathers showed plain. There were enough of them to ride over the little line of cavalry and trample it to death. Ned, revolver drawn as he knelt at the rear of the line, felt himself trembling, although he was not afraid. Out rang the voice of Lieutenant Tom. “Let them have it!” “Crash!” belched the fifteen carbines. And with smart rattle as chambers opened, closed, reloaded they belched again: “Crash!” Through the smoke Indian horsemen were reeling and falling, ponies were sprawling or galloping wildly; and away to either side were scampering the Sioux warriors.