the mountains. Squads from the single cavalry company guarded the few
caravans venturing still to cross the Cimarron Desert, or bore
despatches to Fort Dodge. Thus the few soldiers remaining on duty at
the home station became slowly aware that this outburst of savagery was
no longer a mere tribal affair. Outrages were reported from the
Solomon, the Republican, the Arkansas valleys. A settlement was raided
on Smoky Fork; stages were attacked near the Caches, and one burned; a
wagon train was ambushed in the Raton Pass, and only escaped after
desperate fighting. Altogether the situation appeared extremely
serious and the summer promised war in earnest.

McDonald was rather slow to appreciate the real facts. His knowledge
of Indian tactics was exceedingly small, and the utter isolation of his
post kept him ignorant. At first he was convinced that it was merely a
local disturbance and would end as suddenly as begun. Then, when
realization finally came, was already too late to stop the girl. She
would be already on her long journey. What could he do? What
immediate steps could he hope to take for her protection? Ordinarily
he would not have hesitated, but now a decision was not so easily made.
Of his command scarcely thirty men remained at Devere, a mere infantry
guard, together with a small squad of cavalrymen, retained for courier
service. His only remaining commissioned officer at the post was the
partially disabled cavalry captain, acting temporarily as adjutant,
because incapacitated for taking the field. He had waited until the
last possible moment, trusting that a shift in conditions might bring
back some available officer. Now he had to choose between his duty as
commander and as father. Further delay was impossible.

Devere was a fort merely by courtesy. In reality it consisted only of
a small stockade hastily built of cottonwood timber, surrounding in