And the Colonel was right.  When the Indians saw the signals and the other signs of activity, they knew that their only chance of overcoming the whites by taking them unawares was gone.  There were a few shots fired, but no skirmish; and by the time the moon rose, the fort scouts brought in word that the whole band had departed over the mountains.  A few minutes after, when Captain Elliston rode in, the satisfaction was complete, for he brought with him the news of Barney’s safety.  Ranger, however, was gone.  The Indian—­or Indians, for there were two of them at that point—­had succeeded in capturing him just as Barney had started out from the corral.  A stealthy step, a skilful use of the lariat, and Barney was bound and gagged, that he might give no alarm; and all this with such quiet Indian alertness that a ranchman farther down the corral heard nothing.

So harmlessly ended this raid, that might have been a bloody battle but for Major Molly’s Christmas promise!

POLLY’S VALENTINE.

CHAPTER I.

Polly was seven years old before she knew anything about valentines.  This may seem very strange to most girls, for most girls have heard all about Valentine’s Day by the time they are three or four, and have had no end of fun sending and receiving these friendly favors.  But Polly didn’t know a thing about them until she was seven.  I’ll tell you why.  Polly was one of a number of children who lived in an Orphan’s Home, and Polly herself was the youngest of the orphans.

One morning as she looked out of the window, she saw the postman suddenly surrounded by a whole flock of little girls, and heard one of them say, “Oh, haven’t you got a valentine for me?” And then the whole flock cried, “And for me? and for me?” And the postman laughed good-naturedly, and, looking through his pack of letters, took out two or three quite big square envelopes, and handed them to one and another of the clamorous little crowd.

Polly, hearing and seeing all this, wondered what a valentine could be.  She did not ask anybody the question, however, just then; but when the postman came around at noon, and she saw the same scene repeated, her curiosity could not be restrained any longer, and she started off to find Jane McClane,—­for Jane was fourteen years old and knew everything, Polly thought.

Jane was in the linen-room mending a sheet when Polly found her, and being rather lonesome was quite willing to enter into conversation with any one who came along.  But Polly’s question made her open her eyes with surprise.

“A valentine?” she exclaimed.  “You don’t mean to say, Polly, you never heard of a valentine before?”

“No, never,” answered Polly, feeling very small and ignorant.

“Well, to be sure,” said Jane, “you’re very little, and ain’t ’round much, but I should have thought you’d have heard somebody say something about valentines before this; but you ain’t much for listening and asking, I know.”