Before he could move, the chief was standing over him. "Stop!" he exclaimed, catching Bucks's arm in a grip of steel as the latter tried to drag down his antagonist. "I am Iron Hand. Does a boy fight me?" he demanded with contempt in every word. "See your knife." He pointed to the floor. "When I was wounded by the Cheyennes you gave me venison. You have forgotten; but the Sioux is not like the white man--Iron Hand does not forget." A fusillade of shots and a babel of yelling from outside interrupted his words. The chief paid no attention to the uproar. "Your soldiers are here. The building is on fire, but you are safe. I am Iron Hand." So saying, and before Bucks could find his tongue, the chief strode to the rear window, with one blow of his arm smashed out the whole sash, and springing lightly through the crashing glass, disappeared. Bucks, panting with confusion, sprang to his feet. Smoke already poured in from the freight room, and the crackling of flames and the sounds of the fighting outside reminded Bucks of Iron Hand's words. He ran to the door. The train had pulled up within a hundred feet of the station and the railroad men in the coaches were pouring a fire upon the Indians, under the cover of which scouts were unloading, down a hastily improvised chute, their horses, together with those of such troopers as had been gathered hurriedly. Bucks ran back into the office and opening his wooden chest threw into it what he could of his effects and tried to drag it from the burning building out upon the platform. As he struggled with the unwieldy box, two men ran up from the train toward him, staring at him as if he had been a ghost. He recognized Stanley and Dancing. "Are you hurt?" cried Stanley hastening to his side. "No," exclaimed Bucks, his head still swimming, "but everything will be burned." "How in the name of God, boy, have you escaped?" demanded Stanley, as he clenched Bucks's shoulder in his hand. Dancing seized the cumbersome chest and dragged it out of danger. The Indians, jeering, as they retreated, at the railroad men, made no attempt to continue the attack, but rode away content with the destruction of the train and the station. Stanley, assured of Bucks's safety, though he wasted no time in waiting for an explanation of it, directed the men to save what they could out of the station--it was too late to save the building--and hurried away to see to the unloading of the horses. Bill Dancing succeeded in rescuing the telegraph instruments and with Bucks's help he got the wires rigged upon a cracker-box outside where the operator could report the story to the now desperate despatcher. The scouts and troopers were already in the saddle and, leading the way for the men, gave chase across the bottoms to the Indians. Bob Scott, riding past Bucks reined up for a moment. "Got pretty warm for you, Bucks--eh? How did you get through?" Bucks jumped toward him. "Bob!" he exclaimed, grasping his arm. "It was Iron Hand."