The situation, at the opening of the play, is one of unrest, discontent, and impending danger. The Indians, commanded by _Scar-Brow_, are sullen, hostile, and on the verge of revolt, and they are about to participate in one of their religious ceremonials called “The Sun Dance,”--of which purpose the military authorities in Montana disapprove. A vague sense of coming calamity broods over all the region and whispers of peril are borne on every breeze. A formal conference is held, between _General Kennion_ and his officers and _Scar-Brow_ and his savage warriors, at which the _General_ commands that the “Sun Dance” shall not take place, and from which the Indian _Chieftain_ then angrily and defiantly withdraws. The time is the Fourth of July, and appropriate arrangement has been made for a patriotic festival and ball, at the Post. _Kate Kennion_ has come from the Fort and joined the ladies, to enjoy the festival. There, in the lonely outpost of civilization in Montana, even as in populous and brilliant Brussels, on the night before Waterloo, the ball begins, even while the menace of danger and death draws ever nearer. _Scar-Brow_ has desired, more than anything else, occasion for an outbreak. After the angry parting from _General Kennion_ a small detachment of troopers from the Post is treacherously and through the cowardice of _Parlow_ overwhelmed in an ambuscade, and while the guests of the Post are dancing and frolicking in one room _General Kennion_, in another, is receiving dispatch after dispatch by telegraph from Fort Assiniboine apprising him of a spreading insurrection among the Indians; of messengers murdered, troops embattled against overwhelming odds, intercepted appeals for help, and the swiftly approaching peril of an Indian besiegement of the Post. Then, suddenly, telegraphic communication ceases and the yells of the savages denote that the investment of the stockade has begun. One hope--and but one--remains: that of apprising the Fort, by messenger, of the desperate situation of the Post. _Lieutenant Hawksworth_, every chance against him, undertakes to attempt the passage of the cordon of Indians surrounding the beleaguered garrison, and he goes forth, to almost certain death. The poor remains of white men, with the women and children, are left to face hundreds of savages, wrought to frenzy and capable of demoniac cruelty almost equal to that of the educated, civilized Germans of the present day.