We continued to watch long and anxiously the slowly rolling log. Not a glimpse of the motive power could be obtained, but it ground and crushed its way along with ominous certainty, straight in our direction.

Just as I had come to the conclusion that assistance could not arrive in time, the log stopped. I looked through my glass and saw the cause.

"Sergeant," I exclaimed, "the log has struck a rock! Open the door and draw a bead on it! Don't let a man leap over it to remove the stone! Corporal, guard the east window!"

The sergeant stood ready at the open door. All the efforts of the prostrate men behind the log had no effect, except to swing the end farthest from the obstacle slightly ahead.

"There seems to be nothing for them to do but to remove the stone. Keep a sharp eye on the log, sergeant!"

I had hardly spoken when a sudden discharge of rifles ran irregularly along the length of the log, and under cover of the fire and smoke a stalwart warrior leaped over, raised the stone, and had borne it nearly to the top, when Sergeant Cunningham's rifle spoke sharply.

The stone dropped on our side; the Indian fell forward, with his arms extended towards his friends, who pulled him over the log, and he was screened from our sight. The volley of the Navajos did us no harm.

Corporal Frank replenished the fire on our roof from time to time, and our vigilant watch went on. At last the sergeant, who still stood at the open door, exclaimed, "Lieutenant, the stone is moving! It's dropping into the ground!"

"It's gone, and here comes our fate," I said. "They must have dug under the log with their knives and sunk the stone."

"Yes, sir, and they're safe to reach the cabin door and roast us out."

"If there were two or three more stones in the way, sergeant, the delay they would cause might serve us until help comes."

"I'll run out there with one, Mr. Duncan," said Frank.

"No, laddie," replied the sergeant, "that's a duty for me. I'll drop a couple there in a minute."

"And when you return, sergeant, I will drop two more," said I.

We went quickly to work to carry out our plan. The corporal once more mended the fire, and then we selected from the loose rubbish which had been torn from the top of the chimney several large-sized stones.

Removing his shoes, the sergeant, with my assistance, raised two big stones to his breast, and stood in the doorway with them clasped firmly in his arms. I took the revolvers in my hands, whispered the word, and he started out at a rapid walk, setting his feet down carefully and without noise. He dropped the stones, one before the other, without attracting attention, and regained the cabin without a shot being fired on either side.

Now it was my turn, and I went beyond the place where he had dropped his last stone.

At that instant an alarm was shouted from the distant wood, and an Indian raised his head above the log and fired. The bullet struck the falling rock, and sent a shower of stinging splinters into my face. I turned and fled.

With the discharge of the Indian's rifle Sergeant Cunningham and Corporal Frank opened a rapid fusillade with the revolvers, which successfully covered my retreat to the cabin; but we knew that our last chance at stone-dropping was past.

Several terribly long hours had crept past since we saw Vic turn the butte on her errand to the valleys. Judging by the time it had taken the Navajos to bore a tunnel under their log and undermine the first trigging-stone, we estimated that two more hours must pass before the four obstructions we had placed in their way could be removed, unless they took some more speedy method.

It was quite nine miles to camp, and the dog could easily reach it in about an hour. If she had arrived, help should by this time be fairly on the way; but if she had been killed by the besiegers before she reached the north end of the butte, or had been torn in pieces by the wolves!

Should the log once reach our door, we could not hope to do more than make the price of our lives dear to the enemy.

While the sergeant and I stood at the door and window, speculating in no very hopeful vein over these probabilities, there came a scratch at the eastern door. Frank was at the window on that side, and, startled by the sound, he called to us, "I'm afraid an Indian has sneaked up on us, sir."

Again the scratching was heard, this time accompanied by a familiar whine, which presently swelled into a low bark.

"Oh, Mr. Duncan, it's Vic! It's Vic!" shouted the boy, and, springing to the door, he flung it wide open.

In trotted Vic, and, coming up to me, she dropped a stick at my feet bearing the words: "In the collar, as before."

It took some little time for Corporal Frank to secure the messenger. She capered about the room, licked our hands and faces, jumped up to the noses of the ponies, and behaved as if she was conscious of having performed a great feat and was overjoyed to have returned safely.

But Vic surrendered to the boy at last, and, submitting her neck for inspection, he found attached to her collar a letter which read as follows:

"Come here, little doggie," said Sergeant Cunningham. "If we get out of this, the company shall pay for a silver collar and a medal of honor for the finest dog in the army."

"If that detail marches at the regulation gait of three miles an hour," I said, "it should be here by a quarter-past one, and it is now a quarter to twelve."

My anxiety over our prospects was so great I neglected to show proper gratitude to our devoted messenger.

"The men will do better than that, sir, if they keep on the road. The trouble will be in finding this trail. They have never been this way."

"I think the junction of this and the hot-springs trail cannot be far from here. Let's take a shot at that log every three minutes from now on, and the noise may attract our friends."

We began firing at once, aiming at the under side of the log where it touched the earth. I am confident this must have sent some sand and gravel into the eyes of the rollers, if it did no other damage.

Two of the trigging-stones we had dropped were soon undermined and sunk, and the log had stopped at the third, less than a hundred yards away. As it came on, the sergeant climbed to the top of the chimney, and shortly afterwards returned with the report that he had seen the prostrate body of a warrior revealed beyond—good evidence that his first shot had been fatal. If the next two stones should be as rapidly removed as the others, we feared the Indians would reach us, unless the rescuing party prevented, at about half-past twelve.

Marked by our periodical shots at the log, the time hurried all too rapidly on, the Indians slowly and surely approaching the cabin.

The third stone disappeared, and the log moved with a louder grating over the gravelly soil to the fourth and last obstacle, about thirty yards away, and paused.

"I believe, lieutenant," said Cunningham, "I could hit those fellows' legs now from the chimney."

"All right, sergeant. Close your door and go up and try it," I replied. "A redskin with a broken leg can do us as little injury as one with a broken head."

The words were hardly spoken and the sergeant had barely reached the fireplace, when, as if in anticipation of this movement, two figures leaped over the end of the log nearest the perpendicular rock, ran to the corner formed by the cabin and the wall, and by the aid of the dovetailed ends of the logs clambered quickly to the roof. I sent a shot at them, but it had no effect.

No sooner had they reached the roof than they threw the flaming brands and coal of our bonfire down the chimney, where they broke into fragments and rolled over the floor, setting fire to the scattered straw and plumes.

Busy putting stops into the windows, and fastening them and the doors, we could do nothing to extinguish the fire before it got well under way.

A blanket was thrown over the top of the chimney to prevent a draught, and soon the whole interior was thick with stifling smoke.

The horses plunged frantically, sending the fire in every direction. Our eyes began to smart painfully, and we felt ourselves suffocating and choking in the thick and poisonous atmosphere.

To remain in the house was to be burned alive; to leave it was to perish, perhaps, in a still more horrible way. Just as I was on the brink of despair, the sergeant gasped rather than spoke:

"They are here, lieutenant. Hark! Hark!"

Ping! Ping! We heard the sound of rifle-shots, accompanied by a good, honest, Anglo-Saxon cheer. Was there ever sweeter music?

The war-whoops ceased, the blanket was quickly withdrawn from the chimney-top, and two thuds on the east side of the cabin showed the Indians had left the roof. A general scurrying of feet and other thuds down the perpendicular wall back of the spring were evidence that the besiegers were in full and demoralized flight.

We threw the doors open, and our friends rushed in, and before a greeting was uttered feet and butts of rifles were sweeping brands and straw into the fireplace, and the roaring draught was fast clearing the air.

Before I had fairly recovered my sight, and while still engaged in wiping away the tears the smoke had excited to copious flow, I heard a sobbing voice near me say:

"Oh, Franky, brother, if it had not been for dear little Vicky what would have happened to you?"

Blinking my eyes open, I saw the boy corporals with their right arms about each other's neck, holding their Spencers by the muzzles in their left hands.

"Why, Henry," I said, "you did not make that march with the men?"

"Couldn't keep him back, sir," answered Corporal Coffey. "Said his place was with his brother. Made the march like a man, and fired the first shot when we turned the bluff."

We shook hands all round, and then went out to see whether the volleys of the rescuing party had inflicted any punishment upon the Navajos. Two dead Indians lay near the cabin, and farther away the one that had fallen when attempting to remove the obstacle before the log. There were traces of others having been wounded.

A fire was promptly kindled outside the cabin, and we sat about it for a time to rest and enjoy a lunch. The horses had been somewhat singed about the legs, but were not disabled. An hour afterwards Sergeant Cunningham placed Corporal Henry on his pony, Chiquita, and we started for the valleys.

At daybreak the day after we left Jemez we reached camp, and on the evening of the same day the detachment we had left behind for a rest also arrived, without adventure on the march. Cordova and his son at once set out on the trail of the Navajos, whom we reported to be in possession of their animals, to ascertain why they were in our vicinity.

After four days' scouting the Mexicans returned with the information that they found the Indians had left their camp on the Jemez road after their defeat. They had struck straight through the hills for the Rio Grande, where they joined the main body, the same which had attacked us the day after our arrival in the valleys, and which had recently made several successful raids on the flocks and herds near PeÑa Blanca and Galisteo.

It was the guide's opinion that the party which had besieged me in the cabin had been to the valleys to see what chance there was of running captured stock through there. Their report must have been favorable, for Cordova said a detachment of forty-seven Navajos was now encamped in Los Vallecitos, apparently intending to pass us the following night with a large number of cattle, horses, mules, and sheep.

I began at once to make preparations to retake the stolen stock and to capture the Navajos.

That the Navajos, if they were watching our movements, might not surmise we knew of their presence near us, I ordered the scouting party and huntsmen not to go out next morning, and all the men to keep within the limits of the parade.

The next evening I marched all the company, except the guard, including the boy corporals, by way of the reserved trail into the valley of St. Anthony, and entered La Puerta from the western end. This was done for fear some advance-guard of the redmen might witness our movement if we went by the usual way, and because so large a party might leave a trail visible to the keenly observant enemy even by starlight, and there would be moonlight before we could cross the valley.

It was my intention to make an ambush in La Puerta. In the narrowest part of that caÑon, where it was barely fifty yards wide, the walls rose perpendicularly on each side. A hundred yards east and west of this narrowest portion of the pass were good places of concealment. I placed Sergeant Cunningham and thirteen men at the western end, and took as many and the boys with me to the eastern.

The sergeant was instructed to keep his men perfectly quiet until the head of the herd had passed their place of concealment, and then, under cover of the noise made by the moving animals, to slip down into the caÑon, and when the rear of the herd came up make a dash across the front of the Indians and begin firing, taking care not to hit us.

For myself, I intended to drop into the pass with my detachment when the Navajo rear had passed, deploy, and bag the whole party and the booty.

It was a long and tiresome wait before the raiders appeared. The men had been told that they might sleep, and many of them had availed themselves of the permission.

The moon rose soon after ten o'clock, and made our surroundings plainly visible in the rarefied atmosphere peculiar to the arid region of the plains and Rockies. I sat on a bowlder and watched through the tedious hours until three o'clock, when Corporal Frank approached from the direction of the place where his brother was sleeping.

"What sound is that, Mr. Duncan?" he whispered.

I listened intently, and presently heard the distant bleating of sheep, and soon after the deeper low of an ox.

"The Indians must be approaching," I replied. "You may stir up the men. Be careful that no noise is made."

I continued to listen, and after a long time noticed a sound like the rushing of wind in a pine forest. It was the myriad feet of the coming flocks and herds, hurrying along the grassy valley. The men began to assemble about me, all preserving perfect silence, listening for the approaching Indians.

Another half-hour passed, and over a roll in the surface of the valley, revealed against the sky, looking many times their actual size in the uncertain perspective, appeared two tall figures, whose nearer approach showed to be mounted Indians piloting the captured stock, which followed close behind.

"Corporal Henry," I said, "drop carefully down into the trail and skirt closely along the wall until you come to Sergeant Cunningham's position, and tell him the Indians are close by. Tell him also to allow the two Indians in advance to pass unmolested."

I sent this order by the younger boy because I suspected he was feeling that Corporal Frank's expedition to Jemez, with the adventures of the return trip, had given him a certain prominence to be envied. I meant Henry should divide honors with his brother hereafter.

The little corporal silently disappeared beneath the wall, and a few minutes afterwards the two Indians entered the defile, and the goats and sheep, which had been spread widely over the open valley, scampered, crowded, and overleaped one another as they closed into the narrow way. There seemed to be fully two thousand of them, intermingled with a motley herd of horses, mules, asses, and kine of all sizes and descriptions, numbering three hundred or more, all driven by a party of seventy-three Indians.

The cattle-thieves were evidently congratulating themselves upon having run the gantlet of the military camp and being out of danger, for they had abandoned the traditional reserve of the Indian race, and were talking loudly and hilariously as they passed my wing of the ambuscade. The Indians fell completely into the trap, and they and the cattle with them were captured without any difficulty.

During the winter our supply of grain ran short, and I sent a party, with the Cordovas as guides, to Jemez. They were unable to get through the snow, and the elder Cordova was so badly frost-bitten that in spite of all we could do he died in the camp.

Then I went with a larger party, and was successful. On June 1st orders came to break up the camp, and on the 9th the accumulated stores of nineteen months' occupation were packed, and with a train of ten wagons we set out for Santa FÉ.