In the center of the great circle in which there were several dozen cattle running around aimlessly, pursued by a yelling, exultant, bloodthirsty band of Indians, were several wounded steers and cows, which had gone down and were unable to rise. Several groups of Indians, squatting on the rim of the circle, were shooting at them. This was dangerous business, and the white spectators moved back out of range. The shooting was very reckless at times, and the Indian agent had to protest to the soldiers, who, under Lieutenant Barrows, had the issue in charge. Ted and the two girls were sitting on their ponies, watching the show from a position of safety, as they were out of line of any of the shooting parties. Without warning a ball sang through the air, clipped through the mane of Ted's pony, and pierced the sleeve of Ted's jacket, passing out between him and Miss Croffut, who was by his side. As Ted looked up hastily he caught a gleam of blue across the circle as it dodged behind the group of yelling and shooting Indians. Ted glanced at Stella, and saw a look in her eyes which plainly said: "Did you see it, too?" And Ted nodded. Miss Croffut had screamed as the ball went past, and Ted's pony, burned by it, reared. "Let's get out of this," said Ted quietly. "Those Indians are beginning to shoot wildly, and some one is going to get accidentally hit. I wonder that the soldiers don't regulate it better." "They are afraid of getting the Indians angry," explained Miss Croffut. "The war department allows them to do as they please at this function, to keep them quiet at other times." But most of the poor dumb brutes had succumbed to this slow method of butchering, and the squaws, with horrible cries, rushed into the field, every one to the steer which her lord and master had killed, and the hideous rites of skinning and cutting up the animals was begun by the women, who were even more bloodthirsty than the men. "Come, we don't want to see this," said Ted, and led the way from the field. "It is time for dinner," said Miss Croffut. "Then we must get ready for the trail. We will get a wagon from the storekeeper--a regular camp wagon with beds and a tent. Papa will arrange it all, and he will detail an orderly to drive it for us, and care for our things." "That will be fine for you and aunt, but for me--the saddle and the camp fire," said Stella. CHAPTER XXVIII. A SLAP ON THE FACE. As they were riding toward the post they were joined by Ben, Bud, Kit, Clay, and Carl, who came riding up like Cossacks, and were presented to Miss Croffut, on either side of whom they fell into place, and began to talk animatedly and enthusiastically about the coming trail.