[Illustration:  A shower of arrows rained on our dead mules from the closing circle of red-men]

But we had little time to worry about that or anything else.  Our enemies were still circling, just out of range.  Here and there when they grew incautious we dropped a man or a pony.  But we were still heavily outnumbered.  They knew it and we knew it.  Unless help came it was only a question of time till it was all over.

Daylight came and they still held off.  Eagerly we looked to the westward, but no wagon-train appeared.  We began to fear that something had happened to our friends, when, suddenly one of the Indians jumped up, and with every evidence of excitement signaled to the others.  In an instant they were all mounted.

“They hear the crack of the bull-whip,” said Woods.

He was right.  Without another glance in our direction the Sioux galloped away toward the foot-hills, and as they disappeared we heard the welcome snap of the long bull-whip, and saw the first of our wagons coming up the trail.  In that day, however, the plainsman was delivered out of one peril only to be plunged into another.  His days seldom dragged for want of excitement.

When we got to Leavenworth, Simpson sent three of us ahead with the train-book record of the men’s time, so that their money would be ready for them when they arrived at Leavenworth.

Our boss’s admonition to ride only at night and to lie under cover in daytime was hardly needed.  We cared for no more Indian adventures just then.

We made fairly good progress till we got to the Little Blue, in Colorado.  It was an uncomfortable journey, finding our way by the stars at night and lying all day in such shelters as were to be found.  But the inconvenience of it was far preferable to being made targets for Indian arrows.

We were sheltered one night from one of the fearful prairie blizzards that make fall and winter terrible.  We had found a gulley washed out by an autumn storm, and it afforded a little protection against the wind.  Looking down the ravine I saw ponies moving.  I knew there were Indians near, and we looked about for a hiding-place.

At the head of the ravine I had noticed a cave-like hollow.  I signaled to the two men to follow me, and soon we were snug in a safe hiding-place.  As we were settling down to rest one of the men lit his pipe.  As the cave was illuminated by the glow of the match there was a wild yell.  I thought all the Indians in the world had jumped us.  But the yell had come from my companions.

We were in the exact center of the most grew-some collection of human skulls and bones I have ever seen.  Bones were strewn on the floor of the cave like driftwood.  Skulls were grinning at us from every corner of the darkness.  We had stumbled into a big grave where some of the Indians had hidden their dead away from the wolves after a battle.  It may be that none of us were superstitious, but we got out of there in a hurry, and braved the peril of the storm and the Indians as best we could.