The old Colonel, half roused by the galloping hoofs, was brought to a sitting posture by the sharp knock. “Who’s there?” he demanded. “Fred Benton.” Alta, wakened too, heard the name with a strange joy. “What’s up?” “Indians are raiding the valley.” “Devil you say!” exclaimed the Colonel, jumping up and into his trousers, and hurrying to the door. “They’ll be here any minute,” said Fred. Aunt ‘Liza gave a hysterical scream. Alta, trembling with excitement, ran to comfort her. “How do you know that?” demanded the Colonel. “No time to tell now, get ready.” “Go wake the boys”--Fred was on his way before the Colonel had finished the sentence. Bill and Pete were in a sound sleep, but the word “Injuns” cleared their dazed senses quickly enough. “How big a band is it?” asked the Colonel, coming up with his rifle. “About twenty bucks, with a white devil at their head.” “We’ll need help.” “Yes, and the rest of the ranchers ought to be warned. I should be on my way, but I hate to leave because they’ll strike here first.” “How do you know?” “Uncle Dave overheard their plan.” “Why can’t I go rouse the ranchers?” asked Alta, as she ran out to grasp and cling to Fred’s hand. “It’s too risky, little gal,” objected her uncle; “you stay in out of harm’s reach.” “Not when I can be of help.” Alta’s tone was decisive. “Get Eagle quick, Bill.” “Alta will make a better messenger on that pony than I,” suggested Fred, “and she’ll be in less danger on the road than here.” The old Colonel reluctantly acquiesced and Alta sprang to her saddle. “Go to the Bar B first,” said Fred; “then strike for the ranches north and east; watch out for danger as you return. If you sight trouble, strike for Uncle Dave’s cabin.” Alta was up and away in a second. “Take care of Aunt ‘Liza,” she called back, as she dashed down the road. “Now get your guns, boys, and let’s make ready. Pete, you and Bill take care o’ the house; this boy and I will guard the stables. If you sight Injuns, give ’em hell.” The men took their stations as directed. For half an hour or more the Colonel and Fred wailed, straining their eyes in an effort to see the brush forms take the shape of prowling Injuns, but no signs of such life appeared. The old Colonel began to wonder whether he had not been made the butt of an Injun scare, when suddenly his sharp eye caught sight of a dark object worming through the brush toward the corral. He cocked his rifle carefully. The creeping object checked dead still at the sound; then it began to crawl again. And now another form came into view. The Colonel waited till the skulking savage was within a few rods of the bars, then he took aim and fired. The Indian, fatally struck, gave a piteous death yell, staggered half up, and pitched forward. The cry brought half a dozen forms out of the brush. Fred fired at one of them as they fled for the thick willows.