Rifle-shots ceased to come from the
slopes. As darkness fell gleams of little fires shot up from all
around. The Sioux were preparing to shoot volleys of burning arrows
down into the camp.
Anderson hurried in to consult with Baxter. "We're surrounded," he
said, tersely. "The redskins are goin' to try burnin' us out. We're
in a mighty tight place."
"What's to be done?" asked Baxter.
Anderson shook his head.
On the instant there was a dull spat of an object striking the roof
over their heads. This sound was followed by a long, shrill yell.
"That was a burnin' arrow," declared Anderson.
The men, as of one accord, ran out through the engineers' quarters
to the open. It was now dark. Little fires dotted the hillsides. A
dull red speck, like an ember, showed over the roof, darkened, and
disappeared. Then a streak of fire shot out from the black slope and
sped on clear over the camp.
"Sooner or later they'll make a go of that," muttered Anderson.
Neale heard the scout's horse, that had been left there in the
inclosure.
"Anderson, suppose I jump your horse. It's dark as pitch. I could
run through--reach the troops. I'll take a chance."
"I had that idee myself," replied Anderson. "But it seems to me if
them troopers wasn't havin' hell they'd been here long ago.
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