But they were battling against overwhelming odds, and the end could not be far off.  Sam, the guard, was down, whether dead or only wounded they did not know.  All of them were wounded, and Tom’s left arm hung useless at his side.  They had no time to load their revolvers, and, with the last shot fired, drew their sharp hunting knives and fought like cornered wildcats.  Eyes bloodshot, the odor of blood and sweat in their nostrils, they time and again flung back the leaping, yelling hordes pressing in on them.

But there is a limit to human endurance, and their arms were beginning to weaken, their aim to be less certain.  Then suddenly the fierce attack wavered and weakened.  To their dazed senses came the noise of rifle shots, and the sound of a bugle’s strident note.  Before they could realize that help had at last arrived the Indians had broken away and with wild yells were making for their horses.  A detachment of cavalry set out in pursuit, while the commanding officer and his staff rode over to the exhausted defenders.

As they rode they looked wonderingly at the numbers of Indians scattered over the bloodsoaked ground.  They galloped up to where the defenders, or what remained of them, lay panting on the ground, ringed about by a circle of those who had fallen by their hands.

“Well, boys!” exclaimed the captain, “I guess we came just in the nick of time.  You were about at the last ditch, but from all the signs you must have put up a corking fight.”

Before any one could answer, the surgeon, who had accompanied the rescuing party, arrived on the scene, and immediately took charge of the wounded men.  One of the passengers was past all aid, and the other was badly wounded.  The doctor shook his head when he examined the senseless but still breathing form of the guard, but finally announced that he had a chance to recover.  Among the three boys Tom’s wounded arm was the most serious injury sustained, although they had all suffered cuts and slashes and were weak from loss of blood.

By the time their wounds had been dressed and bandaged the first of the pursuing cavalry returned with the prisoners they had captured.  An hour later the last of them rode in, reporting that the braves who had escaped capture had scattered to the four points of the compass, making further pursuit useless.

“Very well,” said Captain Graham, their leader; “we’ll return to Helena with the prisoners.  But you lads,” he said, turning to the three friends, “where were you bound for when you were attacked?”

Bert told him, and the captain told off half a dozen troopers to escort them to the ranch.  “You deserve the highest praise for the plucky fight you put up,” he said, “and I don’t want your lives put in jeopardy by any of the redskins who may return to this neighborhood after we leave.  I imagine they’ve had all the fight taken out of them by this time, however, and they’ll probably make a bee line for the reservation.  But it is best to be on the safe side, at all events.”