He lost no time in sending a final word to the despatcher before he started for safety, and his call was sounding when he ran back to the key. "Stanley's train has passed Chimney Butte," said the despatcher. "Soon be with you." Words over the wire never sounded better to the frightened boy than those words. "The Indians are crossing the creek," Bucks answered. "Am off for the ranch." He closed the circuit and ran out on the platform. The warriors had found the ford and the horses of the head braves were already leading a file across. Bucks threw one hurried look at them; then, summoning his strength for an endurance run, he started, with the station building between him and the enemy, for the ranch. He had hardly got under way when, as he reached higher ground, he saw to his consternation a party of Indians in the bottom land between him and safety. He was cut off. Hoping that he had not been seen, he threw himself flat on the ground and, turning about, crawled, behind a slight ridge that afforded concealment, stealthily back toward the station. The Indians up the creek had crossed, but were riding away from the station and toward the ranch, evidently bent on attacking it next. The flames from the burning train rose high above the creek. There seemed no place to escape to and Bucks, creeping through the sedge grass, got back to his key and called the despatcher. "Cut off from the ranch by a second party of Indians. Will wait here for the train--where is it?" A moment passed before the answer came. "Less than ten miles from you. Passed Driftwood Station at ten-forty." Bucks looked at his clock. Driftwood was ten miles west. The hands stood at ten-forty-eight. Surely, he concluded, they will be here by eleven o'clock. Could he hold the station for twelve minutes? Even a show of force he knew would halt the Indians for an interval. He hastily pushed such packages of freight as lay in the store-room up to the various windows, as slight barricades behind which he could hide to shoot, and with much effort got the largest packing-case against the platform door so they could not rush him from the creek side. For the twentieth time he looked over his revolver, placed a little store of cartridges behind each shelter, and peered again out of the windows. To his horror he perceived that the two parties had joined and were riding in a great half-circle down on the station. Evidently the Indians were coming after him before they attacked the ranch. He reported to the despatcher, and an answer came instantly. "Stanley should be within five miles. How close are they?" "Less than half a mile." "Have you got a gun?" Bucks wired, "Yes." "Can you use it?" "Expect I'll have to." "Shoot the minute they get within range. Never mind whether you hit anybody, bang away. What are they doing?" Bucks ran around the room to look. "Closing in," he answered briefly. "Can't you see the train?"