CHAPTER V

THE DEFENCE OF THE STAGE

There were times when Hamlin's mental processes seemed slow, almost
sluggish, but this was never true in moments of emergency and peril.
Then he became swift, impetuous, seemingly borne forward by some
inspiring instinct. It was for such experiences as this that he
remained in the service--his whole nature responding almost joyously to
the bugle-call of action, of imminent danger, his nerves steadying into
rock. These were the characteristics which had won him his chevrons in
the unrewarded service of the frontier, and, when scarcely more than a
boy, had put a captain's bars on the gray collar of his Confederate
uniform.

Now, as he struggled to his knees, gripping the iron foot-rail with one
hand, a single glance gave him a distinct impression of their desperate
situation. With that knowledge, there likewise flashed over his mind
the only possible means of defence. The Indians, numbering at least
thirty, had ridden recklessly out from under the protection of the
river bank, spreading to right and left, as their ponies' hoofs struck
the turf, and were now charging down upon the disabled coach, yelling
madly and brandishing their guns. The very reckless abandon of their
advance expressed the conception they had of the situation--they had
witnessed the flight of the two fugitives, the runaway of the wheelers,
and believed the remaining passengers would be helpless victims. They
came on, savage and confident, not anticipating a fight, but a
massacre--shrieking prisoners, and a glut of revenge.