gave clear vision of what would probably occur. They would wait,
scattered out in a wide circle from bluff to bluff, lying snake-like in
the grass. Some of the bolder might creep in to drag away the bodies
of dead warriors, risking a chance shot, but there would be no open
attack in the dark. That would be averse to all Indian strategy, all
precedent. Even now the mournful wailing had ceased; Roman Nose had
rallied his warriors, instilled into them his own unconquerable
savagery, and set them on watch. With the first gray dawn they would
come again, leaping to the coach's wheels, yelling, triumphant, mad
with new ferocity--and he was alone, except for the girl.

And where was she? He felt for her on the floor, but only touched the
Mexican's feet. He had to lean across the seat where Moylan's body
lay, shrouded in darkness, before his groping fingers came in contact
with the skirt of her dress. She was on the front seat, close to the
window; against the lightness of the outer sky, her head seemed lying
upon the wooden frame. She did not move, he could not even tell that
she breathed, and for an instant his dry lips failed him utterly, his
blood seemed to stop. Good God! Had she been killed also? How, in
Heaven's name, did she ever get there? Then suddenly she lifted her
head slightly, brushing back her hair with one arm; the faint starlight
gleamed on a short steel barrel. The Sergeant expelled his breath
swiftly, wetting his dry lips.

"Are you hurt?" he questioned anxiously. "Lord, but you gave me a
scare!"

She seemed to hear his voice, yet scarcely to understand, like one
aroused suddenly from sleep.