There was a babel of shrieks as the women and little ones fell where they stood, in the midst of their work or play. There were the blood-curdling war-whoops of the savages, answering the random shots. Above and through all, one cry rang clear to Wahneenah's consciousness. "The horses! The horses! Ride--ride--ride--as I have taught you! For your lives--Ride!" It was but an instant. Wahneenah and her children were amount and afield. But as, in an anguish of fear for his friends, and no thought of himself, once more the Snake-Who-Leaps shouted his warning, the whistle of a death-dealing bullet came to him where he watched, and struck him down across the threshold of Wahneenah's happy home. CHAPTER X. THE CAVE OF REFUGE. Three abreast, the chestnut in the middle, the fugitives from the doomed village of Muck-otey-pokee rode like the wind in a straight, unswerving line across the prairie. After they had left a considerable distance behind them, Wahneenah turned her stern face backward, and scanned the route over which they had passed; and when her keen vision detected something like a group of glistening bayonets--to ordinary sight no larger than a point against the horizon--she abruptly doubled on her course, then made a sharp detour westward. She had early dropped her own bridle, and had since guided her horse by her low spoken commands, while in either hand she clutched a bit-ring of the Snowbird and Tempest. Her change of direction must have brought her all the more plainly into view of the pursuing soldiers, but in a few moments she had gained the shelter of a group of trees. These sprang, apparently, out of the midst of the plain, but she knew that they really concealed the entrance to the underground pathway to the cave; and once within their shelter, she paused to breathe and gaze upon the startled faces of her children. That of the Sun Maid was pale, indeed, with the excitement of this mad ride, but showed no fear; while Gaspar's, alas! wore an expression of abject terror. His eyes stared wildly, his teeth were set, his nostrils drawn and pinched. He was, his foster-mother saw, already on the verge of a collapse. She leaped from her horse, and caught the fainting boy in her arms while she directed the Sun Maid: "Jump down and tie the horses, as the Snake-Who-Leaps showed you, by their long bridles. In any case, there is little fear but they will stand. Then follow me." "But what ails my Gaspar, Other Mother?" asked the child, as she sprang from her saddle. "Did somebody hurt him when the guns fired?" "No. Tie the horses. He will be right soon. It is the fright. Make haste, make haste!" "Yes, yes, I will. My dear old Feather-man taught Kitty everything. Every single thing about my Snowbird. I can fasten her all tight so she will never, never get away, unless I let her. I will tie Gaspar's, too; and shall your Chestnut stay here with them two?"