She smiled, and a slight flush dyed her cheeks, but it was significant to note that she obeyed him unhesitatingly.  A month ago she would have remained where she was.

And now the battle had begun in grim earnest.  The Indians, dreading the destructiveness of the guns and the Gatlings, had made up their minds to capture them.  As if by a preconcerted signal a large number of them leapt from their cover, and with wild, piercing whoops and war-cries, made a rush on the battery.  Some of them were on horseback, and actually had their steeds smeared with dun-coloured clay so as to resemble the background and the rocks.  It was indeed exceedingly difficult to distinguish them.  Those on foot ran in a zigzag fashion, holding their blankets in front, so as to spoil the aim of the rifle-men.

“They will capture the guns,” cried Dorothy, trembling with excitement, “look, they are nearly up to them now!”

Indeed, for the moment it seemed extremely likely, for the Indians rushed in such a way that those on the flanks were unable to render the gunners or the Mounted Police any assistance.  If Poundmaker succeeded in capturing the guns, the flankers would soon be cut to pieces.  It was a moment of the keenest anxiety for the prisoners, not only for the safety of the brave Canadian troops, but also because they realised that if Poundmaker prevailed their lives were not worth a moment’s purchase.

“Well done, Herchmer!” cried Pasmore.  “See how he is handling the Police!”

And in all truth the coolness and steadiness of the Police were admirable.  They lay flat on their faces while the guns delivered a telling broadside over them on the approaching foe that mowed them down, and sent them staggering backwards.  Then, with a wild cheer, the troopers rose, and, like one man, charged the wavering mass of redskins, firing a volley and fixing their bayonets.  The sight of the cold steel was too much for the Indians, who turned and fled.  The guns were saved.

But those precipitous gullies were filled with plucky savages, and not a few half-breeds, who, while they could effectively pick off and check the advance of the British, were themselves screened from the enemy’s fire.  For two hours and more the fight went on with little gain on either side.  The day was hot, and it must have been terribly trying work for those in the open.  The guns contented themselves with sending an odd shell into likely places, but owing to the nature of the ground, which presented a wall-like front, their practice was only guess work.

Suddenly the girl caught Pasmore by the wrist “Look over there,” she cried.  “Do you see that body of Indians going down that gully?  They are going to attack the column in the rear, and our people don’t know it.  Is there no way of letting them know?”

“There is,” cried Pasmore, “and it’s worth trying.  Our fellows are not more than a thousand yards away now, and I can signal to them.  It’s just possible they may see me.  Give me that stick, Rory.  Jacques, I saw you with your towel an hour or so ago.  Have you still got it?”