Hark! They are gathering for the rush now, and weapons are tightly grasped as the whispered word of command goes down the line. The signal will be a shot from a rifle, and Velveteens is to give it. Rising slowly to his knees, he brought the deadly rifle to his shoulder, and pointed it at the motionless form of the guard who was talking with Dave Farrell, but, as the rifle came to a level, the man glided suddenly behind a tree, and Velveteens lowered the weapon in surprise. “Lucky fur ye, my man,” he muttered. “Thar; come on!” The rifle cracked, and the bullet was buried in the tree behind which the guard was stationed, and the band rushed forward like leaping grayhounds. But, the rifle-shot seemed to be a signal to the others, and the whole front of the strip of woods is in a blaze, so rapid is the discharge of rifles about it. The trappers have not been caught napping, and the tables are turned upon the assailants who go down, man by man, fearfully decimated by the deadly fire. Prairie men do not waste bullets. They take deadly aim, and generally speaking the man drops at whom the ball is sped, and when the band of outlaws reached the woods, nearly one third of their number were beyond the reach of human aid. They stood in the moonlight, exposed to that dreadful fire, while the trappers were covered by trees. No wonder the British crew were rent asunder as if by an earthquake, and scattered both ways, leaving the front of the trappers clear. “Whoop!” yelled one of the hunters. “Give ’em Hail Columby, boys, and durn the odds.” Half a dozen men leaped out to follow the discomfited assailants, unheeding the stern orders of Dave Farrell. They had scarcely showed themselves when four of them went down, for, although so many had fallen, the enemy was not yet beaten, but had paused for breath before a new attack, shuttered by the band in the timber on either flank. “Spread out there on the left and cover the corral,” cried Dave. “They’ll stampede the horses next.” The order did not come too soon, for the party who moved to the left in obedience found themselves face to face with forty or fifty Indians creeping up toward the corral. A hand-to-hand struggle began, and as both sides were reinforced, a battle royal began between the corral and the prairie. In these wood battles the hand and eye must be trained to take in every incident and change in the scene, for it is impossible to say from what point a blow may come. The weapons are deadly, the revolver, knife and hatchet playing the principal part. Neither party would give way an inch now, and it was impossible to say who would conquer, when a shrill, peculiar whistle was heard high above the tumult. Instantly the assailants gave way, and were seen scattered about the prairie in headlong flight, leaving their dead and wounded gasping upon the sod. The trappers would have followed, but Dave would not permit it.