that stern-faced swarthy soldier who fronted them with such dauntless
courage. Hundreds in that swarm had seen him before, when, as the
adopted son of a great war-chief of the Miamis he had been at their
side in many a wild foray along the border.

"Wau-mee-nuk, the white chief," passed from lip to lip; and sullenly,
slowly, reluctantly, the frenzied red circle fell back, as he pressed
his rearing horse full against them.

How hideous their painted faces looked, as we slowly pushed past them,
their lips shrieking insult, their sinewy hands gripping at our
stirrups, their brandished weapons shaken in our faces. With firm-set
lips and watchful eyes I rode, bent well forward, so as best to protect
the girl, my rifle held across my saddle pommel. Twice some vengeful
arm struck me a savage blow, and once a young devil with long matted
hair hanging over his fierce eyes thrust a sharpened stake viciously at
the girl's face. I struck with quick-clinched hand, and he reeled back
into the mass with a sharp cry of pain. My eyes caught the sudden
dazzle, as De Croix whipped out his rapier.

"Not that, Monsieur!" I cried hastily, across her horse's neck. "Use
the hilt, not the blade, unless you wish to die."

He heard me above the clamor, and with a quick turn of the weapon
struck fiercely at a scowling brave who grasped at his horse's rein.
He smiled pleasantly across at me, his fingers twisting his small
mustache.

"'T is doubtless good advice, friend Wayland," he said, carelessly,
"but these copper-colored devils are indeed most annoying upon this