"Say, I've been lookin' fer you," it said. "You're comin' right up to the farm. The Injuns are out. Savee? Jest fer once you're goin' to work on our side. Say, you're goin' to fight 'em--with us." There was a deathly silence. Neither moved. The gun was pressing the man's forehead still. Nevil stood like one paralyzed. "Wal?" questioned the cold voice, proceeding from Seth's shadowy figure. And Nevil was driven to speech. "I'm not a fighting man. I----" But his denial was cut short. "You've jest got ten seconds to make up your mind. You're goin' to fight--for us, or----" Seth had in no way raised his tones from the cold level of his manner at the beginning. His victim had only a shadowy impression of him. He saw only a hazy outline in the blackness of the forest; and he needed no further sight to convince him. There was sufficient in the tone, and in the pressure of the gun at his head. He knew the rest. Here was a sudden collapse of all his schemes. There could be no resistance. Seth had the drop on him. "I'll go," he said sullenly. CHAPTER XXVII IN DESPERATE PLIGHT At daylight the truth was known. The greatest Indian rising of two decades had begun. The Bad-Lands had entered upon a period of slaughter, of wanton massacre, which was to form one of the bloodiest pages in the history of Indian warfare. The first to realize the full terror of the situation were the troops in the small trader's fort overlooking the Reservations. They awoke to find themselves hemmed in by a vast army of red-skinned warriors, entirely cut off from the outside world. The climax of their discovery was reached when an attempt was made to dispatch a telegraphic message to headquarters. The wire was cut. The next to grasp the situation were the citizens of Beacon Crossing. The railroad track was destroyed, and all telegraphic communication was cut off. A horde of warriors from Pine Ridge Reservation, some thousands strong, threatened the township from the east, thus cutting them off from the settlers on the plains. The full knowledge of these things came in driblets to the refugees gathering at White River Farm, filtering through piece by piece as each party came in. But as yet not an Indian had shown himself in the vicinity of the farm. Already twelve families had sought the shelter of Rube's stockade. And all was in readiness for the siege. The morning passed, and still two families lying farther out than all the others had not yet arrived. It was an anxious waiting. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when at last one of the missing parties appeared on the horizon. It was at once seen that the two vehicles were being driven at a desperate pace. They were approaching from the north, and even at that distance the lookout could see the drivers flogging their horses into a furious gallop. Seth passed the order to stand by. The defenders responded, and the stockade immediately bristled with rifles.