blue of the distant sky, appeared a number of dark figures. For a
moment he believed them buffaloes, but in another instant decided
instead they were horsemen riding two by two.

"Get down lower, Miss McDonald," he commanded. "Now we can see, and
not be seen. They must be cavalrymen, the way they ride, but we can
take no chances."

They watched the black specks pass east to where the bluff circled in
toward the river. It was from there those distant riders first
observed the dim spiral of smoke still curling up from the burning
stage, for they halted, bunching together, and then disappeared slowly
down a gash in the side of the hill. Emerging on the lower flat they
turned in the direction of the fire, spurring their horses into a swift
trot. There was no longer any doubt of their being troopers, and
Hamlin stood upright on the sand hummock waving his hat. They were
gathered about the fire, a few dismounted beside the dead bodies,
before his signal was observed. Then a field glass flashed in the
sunlight, and three or four of the party rode down to the bank of the
river. One of these, the glasses still held in his hand, his horse's
hoofs in the water, shouted across the stream.

"Who are you over there?"

"White people," answered Hamlin, using his hands for a trumpet. "We
escaped from the stage last night. I am a sergeant, Seventh Cavalry,
and the lady with me is the daughter of Major McDonald at Fort Devere."

"How did you get across?"