Before dawn a courier has galloped into camp, bearing a despatch from the commanding officer of the Riflers.  It says but few words, but they are full of meaning:  “We have found a big party of hostiles.  They are in strong position, and have us at disadvantage.  Rayner with his four companies is hurrying to us.  Leave all wagons with the boat under guard, and come with every horse and man you can bring.”

Before seven o’clock the wagons are parked close along the bank beside the Far West, and Hull, with all the men he can muster,—­some fifty,—­is trotting ahead on the trail of Rayner’s battalion.  With him rides Mr. Hayne, eager and enthusiastic.  Before ten o’clock, far up along the slopes they see the blue line of skirmishers, and the knots of reserves farther down, all at a stand.  In ten minutes they ride with foaming reins in behind a low ridge on which, flat on their faces and cautiously peering over the crest, some hundred infantrymen are disposed.  Others, officers and file-closers, are moving to and fro in rear.  They are of Rayner’s battalion.  Farther back, down in a ravine a dozen forms are outstretched upon the turf, and others are bending over them, ministering to the needs of those who are not past help already.  Several officers crowd around the leading horsemen, and Hull orders, “Halt, dismount, and loosen girths.”  The grave faces show that the infantry has had poor luck, and the situation is summarized in few words.  The Indians are in force occupying the ravines and ridges opposite them and confronting the six companies farther over to the west.  Two attacks have been made, but the Indian fire swept every approach, and both were unsuccessful.  Several soldiers were shot dead, others severely wounded.  Lieutenant Warren’s leg is shattered below the knee; Captain Blount is killed.

“Where’s Rayner?” asks Hull, with grave face.

“Just gone off with the chief to look at things over on the other front.  The colonel is hopping.  He is bound to have those Indians out of there or drop a-trying.  They’ll be back in a minute.  The general had a rousing fight with Dull Knife’s people down the river last evening.  You missed it again, Hull:  all the ——­th were there but F and K,—­and of course old Firewater wants to make as big a hit here.”

“The ——­th fighting down the river last night?” asks Hull, in amaze.

“Yes,—­swept clean round them and ran ’em into the stream, they say.  I wish we had them where we could see ’em at all.  You don’t get the glimpse of a head, even; but all those rocks are lined with the beggars.  Damn them!” says the adjutant, feelingly.

“We’ll get our chance here, then,” replies Hull, reflectively.  “I’ll creep up and take a look at it.  Take my horse, orderly.”

He is back in two minutes, graver than before, but his bearing is spirited and firm.  Hayne watches him with kindling eye.

“You’ll take me in with you when you charge?” he asks.