The General's self-possession and resource were indeed remarkable.

'We ought to have a cannon,' he said; 'there's a big roll of matting somewhere in the house. If we got that, and widened a loophole, and shoved it through, it would look just like the muzzle of a cannon in the dark.'

'Would that frighten a Red Indian much?' asked Hazel.

'Not if he knew what it was, perhaps; but who's going to tell him? Jack, just run up to the house, like a good fellow, and see if you can find it, will you? You can go with him, Guy.'

'You seem rather to like the idea of being attacked,' said Hazel, when she and Clarence were alone together. He was gratified to notice the new friendliness in her voice.

'Well, you see,' he explained loftily, 'I don't suppose I'm pluckier than most people, but it just happens that I'm not afraid of Red Indians, that's all; when I saw all those at Buffalo Bill's I wasn't even excited: it's constitutional, I fancy.' He always modelled his talk a good deal upon books, and a crisis like this naturally brought out his largest language.

'I'd better see you safe back to the house, I think,' he added; 'I don't expect them for an hour yet, but you can never depend on savages—they might be lurking about the grounds already, for what we know.'

And, although Hazel had her own private ideas about the reality of the danger, she was struck by his coolness and courage, for which, whether justified or not by the occasion, she was quite fair-minded enough to give him due credit.

Meanwhile, the other two boys, bursting with excitement, had rushed up to the verandah, under which their mother and uncle were sitting.

'Mother! Uncle Lambert! What do you think? Our camp is going to be attacked this very night by Indians!'

'Yes, dears,' said Mrs. Jolliffe, serenely; 'but have you had your teas yet?'

Trifles such as these harrow the martial soul more than conflicts.

'But, mother, did you hear what we said? The fort is to be stormed by Red Indians!'

'Very well, dears, so long as you don't make too much noise,' was the sole comment of this most provokingly placid lady. What she ought to have done was, of course, to throw down her work, raise her eyes to the clouds, clasp her hands, and observe, in an agitated tone, 'Heaven protect us! We are lost!' But few mothers are capable of really rising to emergencies of this kind.

Hilary and Cecily had been playing tennis, and, overhearing the alarming news, came up to the steps of the verandah. 'Did you say Red Indians were coming here?'

Uncle Lambert shook his head lugubriously. 'I always warned your father,' he remarked; 'but he would come to live in Berkshire.'

'Why?' inquired Cecily. 'Is Berkshire a bad place for Red Indians, uncle?'

'I should say it was one of the worst places in all Europe!' he said solemnly.

Both Hilary and Cecily had heard and read a good deal about Red Indians lately, and had also, with their brothers, visited the American Exhibition, so that it did not strike either of them as unlikely just then that there should be a few scattered about in England, just as gipsies are.

'But what are you going to do about it?' they asked their brother.

'Lick 'em, of course!' said Guy. 'Now you see that an army is some use, after all.'

'Don't be taken alive, there's good boys,' advised their frivolous uncle, who seemed still unable to realise the extreme gravity of the occasion. 'Sell your lives as dearly as possible.'

'What is the use of telling them that, uncle?' exclaimed Cecily. 'They wouldn't get the money; and do you think any of us would touch it? How can you talk in that horrid way? Jack and Guy, don't go to that camp. Let the Indians have it, if they want to; you can soon build another.'

'You don't understand,' said Jack, impatiently. 'We can't have a lot of Red Indians in our camp—it wouldn't be safe for you.'

'Oh, I shall go and speak to Clarence,' she cried. 'I'm sure he won't want to fight them.' And she ran down to the end of the lawn, where he could be seen returning with Hazel.

'I want to speak to you quite alone,' she said. 'No, Hazel, it's a secret,' and she drew him aside.

'Clarence,' she said, and her blue eyes were dark with fear, 'tell me—are the Indians really coming?'

'You can judge for yourself,' he said, and gave her the paper. 'We've just had this thrown over the stockade. It seems to have been written by somebody who is in their secrets.'

'How badly Red Indians do spell!' said Cecily, shuddering as she read.

'It may be a white man's writing,' he said; 'perhaps a prisoner, or a confederate who repents.'

'But, Clarence, dear,' entreated Cecily (ten minutes ago she would not have added the epithet), 'you won't stay out and sit up for them, will you?'

'Do you think we're a set of cowards?' he demanded grandly.

'Not you, Clarence; but—but Jack and Guy are not very big boys, are they? I mean, they're a little too young to fight full-sized Indians.'

'There will be all sorts of sized Indians, I expect,' said Clarence. 'Of course, I don't say they'll come. They may think discretion's the better part of valour when they find we're prepared; but I must say I anticipate an attack myself.'

'I wish you would do without Jack and Guy. Couldn't you?' suggested Cecily.

His eyes gleamed. 'Cecily,' he said, 'tell me the worst—the army are getting in a funk?'

'No,' she cried; and then she resolved to sacrifice their reputation for their safety. 'At least, they haven't said anything; but I'm sure they'd feel more comfortable in the drawing-room. Can't you order them to stay and guard us? You're General.'

'And I am to face the foe alone?' he cried. 'Well, I am older than them' (I must decline to be responsible for the grammar of the characters of this story). 'I have lived my life—I shall be the less missed.... Let it be as you say.'

All this was strictly according to the books, and he enjoyed himself immensely.

'Thank you, dear, dear Clarence. I'd no idea you were so noble and brave. Try not to let those Indians hit you.'

'I cannot answer for the future,' he said; 'but since you wish it I will do my best.'

After all there was some good in girls. Here was one who said exactly the right things, without needing any prompting whatever.

Cecily hunted up Jack and Guy, who were poking about in the house. 'You're not to guard the stockade,' she announced, with ill-concealed triumph.

'Oh, aren't we, though?' said Guy; 'who says so? Not mother!'

'No—Clarence; he said I was to tell you to go on duty in the drawing-room.'

'What bosh!' said Guy. 'As if any Indians would come there! I don't care what Clarence says, I shall go in the stockade!'

'So shall I! 'said Jack. 'Now let's get that piece of matting, and go down sharp—the evening star's out already.'

Poor Cecily was in despair; what was to be done when they were so obstinate as this?

'I know where there's some beautiful matting,' she said.

'Where? Tell us, quick!'

'Come with me, and I'll show you.' She led the way along a corridor to the wing where the billiard-room was. 'Wait till I see if it's there still,' she said, and went into the billiard-room and looked around. 'Yes, it is there,' she told them as she came out.

'I don't see it, Cecily; where?' they cried from within.

Cecily shut the door softly, and turned the key (which she had managed to abstract on entering) in the outer lock.

'It's on the floor,' she cried through the keyhole; 'I didn't tell a story—and don't be angry, boys, dear, it's all for your good!'

Then, without waiting to hear their indignant outcry, she scudded along the corridor and down the staircase, with the sounds of muffled shouts and kicks growing fainter behind her.

'I don't mind so much now,' she thought; 'they'll be awfully angry when they come out—but the Indians will have gone by that time!'

Clarence had already retreated to his stronghold when she entered the drawing-room.

Everything seemed as usual; Uncle Lambert, in evening dress, was playing desultory snatches from Ruddigore. Mrs. Jolliffe came down presently, and he took her in to dinner with one of his tiresome jokes. No one seemed at all anxious about poor Tinling, fighting all alone down in the paddock.

She curled herself up on a settee by one of the open windows, and listened, trying to catch the sound of Indian yells. 'Hazel,' she said anxiously, 'do you think the Indians will hurt Tinling?'

Hazel gave a little laugh. 'I don't think the army's in any very great danger, Cis,' she replied.

'Hazel doesn't believe there are any Indians at all,' explained Hilary.

'Well,' said Cecily, softly, 'I've kept the army out of danger, whether there are or not!'

But she felt relieved by her sisters' evident tranquillity, and by-and-by, when Mrs. Jolliffe came in from the dining-room and settled down with her embroidery as if there were not the least chance of a savage coming whooping in the open window, Cecily almost forgot her fears.

They came back in full force, however, as, a little later on, she heard a quick, light step on the gravel outside, and started with a little scream of terror. 'Don't tell them where the army are!' she cried; and then she saw that her alarm was needless, for it was the gallant General who stepped into the room. Hazel looked up from the album which she was making for a children's hospital, Hilary threw away her book, Mrs. Jolliffe had ceased to embroider, but that was because she was peacefully dozing.

'Victory!' said Clarence, waving his sword.

'Then they did come?' cried Cecily, triumphantly.

'Rather!' he replied. 'I couldn't tell how many there were, but they were overcome with panic at the first discharge. I fancy these Indians had never heard firearms before.'

'How funny that we shouldn't have heard any now!' remarked Hazel, resting her chin on her palms, while her grey eyes had a rather mocking sparkle in them.

'Not funny at all,' he said, 'considering the wind was the other way. I let them come on, and then poured a volley into the thickest part of their ranks—that made them waver, and then I made a sortie, and you should have just seen them scuttle!'

'I wish I had,' said Hazel, as she pasted another Christmas card into her album. 'And weren't you wounded at all?'

'A mere scratch,' he said lightly (which is what book-heroes always say).

'It looks as if you had been amongst the gooseberry-bushes,' said Hilary, examining his arm as he pulled up his sleeve.

'Does it? Well, I only know it's lucky for me there were no poisoned arrows.'

'Oughtn't you to have it burnt, though, Clarence, just in case?' suggested Cecily, in all good faith; 'there's sure to be a red-hot poker in the kitchen.'

But Clarence was very decidedly of opinion that such a precaution was not necessary.

'And you're quite sure the Indians are all gone?' she asked.

'There isn't one of 'em within miles,' he said confidently, 'I'll answer for that.'

'Then come upstairs with me, and we'll let the army out. They'll be in such a temper!'

They found the two boys, who had tired of kicking and shouting by that time, sitting gloomily on the long seats in the dark.

'Guy, dear—Jack,' said Cecily, timidly, 'you can come out now. Clarence has beaten the Indians.'

'Without us?' groaned Guy. 'Cecily, I'll never speak to you again! Tinling, I—we—you don't think we funked, do you? She locked us up here!'

All the General's native magnanimity came out now.

'We won't say any more about it,' he said. 'It was rather a close shave, with only one man to do it all. But, there, I managed somehow, and perhaps it was just as well you weren't there. The first rush was no joke, I can tell you.'

Jack punched his own head with both hands.

'Oh, it's too bad!' he said—he was almost in tears. 'They'll all think we deserted you! Did you kill many of them, Tinling?'

'I didn't see any corpses,' he replied; 'but I shouldn't be surprised if some of them died when they got home.'

'They may come again to-morrow night,' said Jack, more cheerfully.

'Not much fear of that—they've had their lesson. They were seized with utter panic.'

'Which way did they go?' asked Guy, evidently bent on pursuing them.

'Oh, in all directions. But you wouldn't catch them up now; they ran too fast for me even!'

'Then I shall go to bed,' said the entire army, in great depression. 'It is a shame we couldn't be there. Good-night, General.' And, pointedly ignoring poor Cecily, they marched off to their quarters. She looked wistfully after them.

'They'll never forgive me—I know they won't!' she said to Tinling.

'Don't you mind,' he said, 'you acted very wisely. And, after all, these raw young troops can never be depended on under fire, you know—I mean, under arrows.'

Cecily drew herself up a little haughtily.

'I locked them in because I didn't want them to get hurt,' she said, 'not because I thought they'd be afraid.'

Uncle Lambert did not hear about the result of the engagement until the following day, but then, to make up for any delay, he heard a good deal about it. Even Clarence was not quite prepared for the enthusiasm he showed.

'Splendid, my boy, splendid!' he kept repeating, while he hit him rather hard on the back; 'you're a hero. A grateful country ought to give you the Bath for it. I shall take care this affair is generally known.'

And the poor army looked on with hot cheeks and envious eyes. But for Cecily, they might have been heroes, too!

Even Hazel seemed to have understood that a really brilliant victory had been achieved; she brought Tinling a magnificent flag of pink glazed calico, on which she had painted in crimson letters: 'Indians' Terror.'

'I did not think of making the motto "Seven at one blow,"' she said, with a mischievous dimple.

'I like the other best,' said the General, unsuspectingly.

Jack and Guy went down to the camp as usual, but for some time they were in very low spirits, in spite of their commander's well-meant efforts to raise them.

'You'll do better next time,' he said kindly.

'But we've told you over and over again how it was!' they would exclaim.

'Yes, I know, I know. It's all right. I'm not complaining: I never expected you to be as cool as I was, your first time.' But even this did not seem to console the army to any large extent; they hunched their shoulders and kicked pebbles about with great apparent interest.

The fact was, they could not help seeing that they had lost their prestige. It was true that their mother and elder sister at least (in spite of the flag) did not seem to treat the past danger with all the seriousness it deserved. It even struck Jack and Guy sometimes that they were under the delusion that the whole thing had been only a new development of the game. But as the General said: 'Even if that were so, it was kinder not to undeceive them. He certainly was contented to leave them in their error; he knew well enough what he had had to go through—he did not like even now to think of his despair when he found he would have to face the danger all alone.'

He was always making the army writhe by little unintentional reminders of this kind, and they had cruel misgivings that Uncle Lambert, though he was always quite kind and encouraging, did not in his heart believe that their unfortunate absence in the hour of peril was quite an accident on their part.

How they longed for an opportunity of wiping out their disgrace, and how their hearts sank when Tinling, from the depths of his experience, declared it very improbable that the attack would ever again be renewed. In the school-stories, the good boy who refuses to fight when he is kicked, and is sent to Coventry as a coward, always gets a speedy chance to clear his character. Someone (generally the very boy who kicked him) falls into a mill-stream, or a convenient horse runs away, or else a mad but considerate bull comes into the playground—and the good boy is always at hand to dive, or hang on to the bridle and be dragged several yards in the dust, or slowly retreat backwards, throwing down first his hat and then his coat to amuse and detain the infuriated bull.

But out of stories, unfortunately, as even Jack and Guy dimly perceived, things are not always arranged so satisfactorily. They might have to wait for weeks, perhaps months or years, before Uncle Lambert fell into the fish-pond—and, even if he did, he could probably swim better than they could. Then they were neither of them sure that they could successfully stop a runaway horse, or a maniac bull, without a little more practice than they had had as yet.

However, Fortune was kind, and took pity on them in a most unexpected manner. For one morning, soon after breakfast, when Hazel was practising in the music-room, and Hilary and Cecily feeding their rabbits, Jack came up in a highly-excited state of mind to the verandah where his officer was seated doing nothing in particular. 'General,' he said, with a very creditable salute, 'do come down to the camp at once.'

'Oh, bother!' said the veteran warrior, who had, by the way, shown rather a tendency to rest on his laurels of late.

'No, but it isn't humbug, really,' protested Jack; 'it's something you'll like awfully.'

The General marched down in a very stately manner; it would have been undignified to run, eager as he was to get down to the stockade, thinking it not unlikely that Lintoft, the carpenter, really had found time to make a cannon for them after all, or, at the very least, that there would be some change in the internal arrangements of the stronghold which it would be his duty as superior officer to criticise, if not condemn.

Now it must be explained here that, during the last two or three days, the outside wall of the fort had been placarded with various bills, all glorying in the recent repulse of the enemy by a single-handed defender, and containing most insulting reflections on the courage of Red Indians as a race; while, in case they might not have enough knowledge of English to understand these taunts, they were accompanied by sketches which were certainly scathing enough to infuriate the least susceptible savage.

To do Clarence justice, they were not due to any elation on his part, but had all been executed by the army in the wild hope that they might thus stir up the foe to a fresh demonstration, when they themselves might recover their lost spurs.

These placards, as Clarence found on reaching the stockade, had been scrawled over with a kind of red and yellow paint so as to be quite illegible.

'Ochre,' said Guy; 'but that's not the best of it, for we found this pinned with an arrow to one of the posts.' And he produced a thin strip of white bark, on which were writing and drawings in crimson. 'They must have done it with their own blood,' commented Jack, with great gusto; 'but read it—do read it.'

Clarence did not need a second invitation to read the document, which was as follows:—

'Wah Na Sa Pash Boo (Yellow Vulture),

Chief of Black Bogallala Tribe, to the Great White Chief, Tin Lin, Defiance.

'The wigwam of Yellow Vulture wants but one ornament—the scalp of the white chief. Yellow Vulture has seen the taunts calling the red warriors "women with the hearts of deer." He will show the Paleface that the anger of the dusky ones is a big heap-lot terrible. When the sun has set behind the hills, and the stars light their watch-fires, then will Yellow Vulture and his braves be at hand. The scalp of the Paleface shall adorn the tepee of the Red Man.

'Wah-Wah!'

In order that there should be no possible mistake about the intention, the message was supplemented by a rude representation of the process of scalping, evidently the work of a practised hand.

'Didn't I tell you we had something jolly to show you!' exclaimed Jack.

But joy, or some equally powerful emotion, rendered the General incapable of speaking for several moments.