scrub and rocks, until they came to an open space of about sixty paces,
while above it towered the cliff for twenty feet in the sheer. There the
Indians had been last seen. The soldiers lay tight in the snow, and no
man's valor impelled him on. To the casual glance the rim-rock was
impassable. The men were discouraged and the officer nonplussed. A
hundred rifles might be covering the rock fort for all they knew. On
closer examination a cutting was found in the face of the rock which was
a rude attempt at steps, doubtless made long ago by the Indians. Caught
on a bush above, hanging down the steps, was a lariat, which, at the
bottom, was twisted around the shoulders of a dead warrior. They had
evidently tried to take him up while wounded, but he had died and had
been abandoned.

After cogitating, the officer concluded not to order his men forward,
but he himself stepped boldly out into the open and climbed up. Sergeant
Johnson immediately followed, while an old Swedish soldier by the name
of Otto Bordeson fell in behind them. They walked briskly up the hill,
and placing their backs against the wall of rock, stood gazing at the
Indian.

With a grin the officer directed the men to advance. The sergeant,
seeing that he realized their serious predicament, said:

"I think, lieutenant, you had better leave them where they are; we are
holding this rock up pretty hard."

They stood there and looked at each other. "We's in a fix," said Otto.

"I want volunteers to climb this rock," finally demanded the officer.