"It is war," replied Black Panther. "You will not reach Santa Fé, and you will not go back to New Orleans. The Comanches will welcome you to their plains with the arrows from their bows and the bullets from their rifles." "Be it so," said Middleton, continuing his calm, even tone. "We have not come so far merely to turn back. The Comanche welcome of bullets and arrows may greet us, but we are strong men, and for any welcome that may be given to us we shall always repay. Is it not so, Mr. Woodfall?" Woodfall nodded. "Give that answer to your tribe," said Middleton, speaking in firm tones, and looking the chief squarely in the eyes. "We have started to Santa Fé, and there we go. The Comanche nation has not enough warriors to turn us back." A spark of fire seemed to leap from the chief’s eye, but he made no other demonstration. "I have given you the third and last warning," he said. "Now I go." He raised the shield in a sort of salute, and, without a word, turned and rode away. The three sat on their horses, looking at him. When he had gone about two hundred yards he paused a moment, fitted an arrow to his bow, shot it almost straight up into the air, and then, uttering a long fierce whoop, galloped away over the plain. The Indian’s cry was sinister, ominous of great dangers, and its meaning sank deeply on Phil’s heart. A peculiar shiver ran down his backbone, and the little pulses in his temples began to beat. He did not doubt for a moment that the warning of the Comanche was black with storm. He watched the sinister figure becoming smaller and smaller, until it turned into a dark blur, then a dot, and then was seen no more in the vast, gray-green expanse. The incident seemed to have sunk deep into the minds of the other two, also, and they rode gravely and in silence back to the train, which was now drawn up in one great group on the crest of the swell. The men, keen borderers most of them, had divined the significance of what they saw, but they crowded around the three for more definite information. Woodfall told them briefly. He knew their temper, but he thought it best to put the question and to put it fairly. "Men," he said, "we are undoubtedly threatened with an attack. The Comanches are numerous, brave, and cunning. I will not conceal from you those facts. A fight with them will mean loss to us, and, even if we win that fight, as I am sure we will, they will attack again. Now, if any want to turn back, let them do so. All who wish to go back, say ’I’." He paused. There was a dead silence throughout the train. The corners of Woodfall’s lips curved a little into a slow smile. "Those who wish to go on, Comanche or no Comanche, say ’Yes,’" he cried. A single "Yes" was thundered out from scores of throats, and many of the more enthusiastic raised their rifles and shook them. "I thought so," said Woodfall quietly, and then he added in a louder voice: "Forward!"