"They seem to be having trouble with the Indians on the reservation," remarked Mr. Milton one evening, just after his return from a trip to town; "everybody in Helena seems to be talking about it, and there was a big article in the 'Despatch' this morning, too."

"What kind of trouble?" asked Bert, his interest at once aroused. "You don't mean there's talk of an outbreak among them, do you?"

"That's exactly what I do mean," replied Mr. Melton seriously. "The young bucks are discontented, and are continually making 'war medicine.' Of course, the old men of the tribes do all they can to keep them within bounds, for they know how useless any outbreak would be. But the young men have never had the bitter experience of their fathers, and at present they seem very restless."

"But I thought the days of Indian outbreaks were over," exclaimed Tom excitedly; "why, they wouldn't have a ghost of a chance if they started anything now."

"Just the same there are enough of them to make trouble, if they ever got started," said Mr. Melton soberly. "Of course, as you say, the uprising would be suppressed quickly enough, but not perhaps without considerable bloodshed and loss of property. At any rate, the prospect of such an outbreak is enough to keep people living anywhere near the reservation boundary on the anxious seat."

"But I should think," remarked Dick, "that the authorities would make such preparations to subdue an uprising among the Indians that it would be crushed before they had a chance to get off the reservation."

"Well, the authorities have taken every possible precaution," replied Mr. Melton. "Jim Hotchkiss, the sheriff, told me that word had been passed to officers of the forts to have the troops in readiness for instant action. But the 'noble red man' is cunning in his own way, and lays his plans carefully. And when he is ready to strike he strikes quickly, like the snake. A marauding band will attack and sack a farmhouse, and be forty miles away before the troops arrive on the scene. And in a country as large and wild as this it is something of a task to corner and subdue them."

"There hasn't been any trouble of the kind for a long time, has there?" asked Dick.

"No, not for a good many years," answered Mr. Melton; "and that inclines me all the more to take the present situation seriously. These uprisings come only at long intervals now, but it seems impossible to prevent them altogether. After an outbreak has been put down the Indians are very quiet for a time. They have probably suffered considerable loss of life, and been severely punished by the government. For years the memory of this lingers, but gradually it fades away, and the rising generation of young bucks, with the inherited lust of fight and warfare running riot in their blood, become restless and rebellious under the restraints of civilization and government. They hear stories of their ancestors' prowess from the lips of the old men of the tribe, and they long to go out and capture a few 'pale face' scalps on their own account. After a while they work themselves up to the required pitch, and some fine day a band of them sallies forth on the 'war path.' Then there is a brief time of plundering and murdering, until the troops can come up with them. Then there's a scrimmage, in which most of the band is exterminated, and the rest are herded back to the reservation, with most of the fight gone out of them."

"I should think a few experiences like that would teach them wisdom, and keep them from repeating the experiment," commented Bert.

"It would seem so," assented Melton, "but," with a smile, "youth is always prone to disregard what is told it by its elders, and to insist on finding out the why and wherefore of things by bitter experience."

"I hope there's nothing personal in that," grinned Dick.

"Oh, not at all," replied his host with an innocent expression on his face, but a twinkle in his eye. "I wonder what could have given you that idea."

"Nothing," replied Dick. "I just thought it barely possible, that's all."

"Oh, no," disclaimed Melton, "nothing could have been further from my thoughts."

Dick looked suspicious, and Tom and Bert laughed heartily.

After this little interruption, the talk went back to the subject of the threatened Indian uprising. After a time Mr. Melton said: "It might be a good idea for you boys to ride to town to-morrow and get the latest news. There'll be very little going on about the ranch to-morrow to interest you, and it will be a good way to spend the day. Besides, there are one or two things I forgot when in town, and while you are about it you can get them and bring them back with you."

This plan was received by the boys with acclamation, and they immediately set to making preparations. It was a considerable distance to the town, and they planned to make an early start, before the intense heat of the day set in.

They accordingly packed their "war-bags" that same evening, and before retiring had made every preparation for the morrow's trip.

The next morning they were up with the sun, and after a hasty breakfast leaped into their saddles and were off. It was a glorious day, and the exhilarating air made them feel "right up on their toes," as Tom expressed it. Bert felt called upon to reprove Tom for using this expression, for, as he gravely pointed out, they were not on their own toes at all, but on the horses', so to speak.

"Aw, forget it," retorted Tom flippantly; "it's toe bad about you, anyway."

Having delivered this shot Tom chirruped to his horse, and set off at a smart gallop, followed by Dick and Bert. The two latter hadn't decided what they would do to Tom when they caught him, but they were longing for a canter, anyway, and this gave them a good excuse. But after traveling in this rapid manner for a short distance they pulled in their steeds, for it would never do to tire them thus early in the journey. Tom, seeing that the pursuit had been abandoned, also reined in his horse, and allowed his companions to gain on him.

"Don't shoot," he called. "I'll promise to be good and never do it again—not till the next time, that is."

"All right," laughed Bert, "we'll suspend sentence this time, but at the next offense we won't be so lenient, will we, Dick?"

"Not by a long shot," said Dick; "we'll toe him along at the end of a lariat if he does, that's all." He grinned feebly as he got off this atrocious pun, but Bert and Tom refused to be beguiled into smiling.

"I never thought it of you, Dick, honest I didn't," mourned Bert, sadly shaking his head. "I naturally expect such things from Tom, but I had a better opinion of you. I suppose I'll have to let bygones be bygones, but just the same you deserve nothing less than ptomaine poisoning as punishment."

At this Tom and Dick gave utterance to a howl of execration that made their horses jump, and two tightly rolled sombreros came flying toward Bert's head. But he ducked just in time, and then had a good laugh as Tom and Dick were forced to dismount and secure their misused headgear.

Soon his two friends were back in the saddle, however, and then they set off at a steady trot, discussing in a more serious vein the probability of such an uprising as Mr. Melton feared.

"I don't want it to happen," summed up Bert at last, "but if it's got to happen anyway, I hope it does while we're out here. I feel like a small boy going to a fire. As long as the house has to burn anyway, he wants to be Johnny-on-the-spot."

In this manner the time passed quickly, and before eleven o'clock they were nearing the town. A few minutes later they were riding through its streets, alertly on the lookout for any signs of impending trouble. All seemed much the same as usual, though, except that about the telegraph and newspaper offices there seemed to be unwonted bustle and excitement. Here and there knots of men had congregated also, who appeared to be discussing some important matter.

The three boys rode until they reached the post office, and then, dismounting and hitching their horses, went inside. The post office also served as a telegraph station, and there were various news bulletins posted about the room.

They hastened to one of these, and their faces grew grave as they read. It appeared from the bulletin that the Indians were on the very eve of an outbreak, although they had made no actual hostile moves as yet. Troops had been summoned to the reservation, however, and were expected to reach Helena that evening. They were ordered to stay in the town overnight, and press on for the reservation the following morning.

"It begins to look like business now, all right," said Bert, after he and his friends had digested this information.

"It sure does," agreed Dick, "but likely as not it will all blow over before anything really serious happens."

"Oh, of course, there's always that chance," said Bert, "but let's go outside and find out what the opinion of the townspeople is. They must understand the situation pretty thoroughly, and we can soon find out whether or not they regard this as a false alarm. But it looks to me as though real trouble were brewing."

Bert's opinion seemed to be shared almost unanimously by the citizens. Everywhere men were getting out and overhauling their firearms, and there was a run on the ammunition stores.

"I'm glad we brought our revolvers," remarked Tom; "there seems to be a chance of our having use for them by and by."

"I'm mighty glad we did," acquiesced Bert, "and I brought something beside my revolver, too. Just before we left the ranch I packed my Winchester repeater inside my blankets. I wasn't even thinking of the Indians then, but I thought we might have a chance at a little game, and it would be just as well to pack it along. There's not a chance in a thousand that we'll need it, but you can't always tell."

"It's lucky you did," said Dick; "have you got plenty of ammunition for it?"

"None too much," replied Bert. "I think while we're here I'll buy a few boxes of cartridges."

Acting upon this thought, they bought the ammunition, together with some extra cartridges for their revolvers. This done they made the purchases for Mr. Melton that he had requested of them, and after a satisfying meal at the best hotel set out on their return journey.

It was about two o'clock as they jogged out of town, and as they knew they had ample time in which to reach the ranch before dark they let the horses set their own pace. They had many things to talk about, although the heat of the sultry afternoon made even conversation a task. But nothing could subdue their spirits, and with never a care in the world they rode gaily on.

"It's quite near stage time," Bert remarked suddenly, "we're pretty near the trail, and if we meet it we can get the latest developments of the reservation situation from Buck, the driver. He always has a supply of the latest news. He knows more than the local newspapers of what's going on, I believe."

"I'll bet that's the coach now," exclaimed Dick, pointing to a cloud of dust in the distance.

"Yes, I guess it is," returned Bert, gazing intently at the distant smirch against the clear blue background of sky; "come along, fellows. Ride hard and we'll reach the trail before the coach comes along."

Accordingly they set spurs to their horses and galloped rapidly over the sunburned prairie. In a short time they reached the travel-hardened trail, beating the coach by a good half mile. Then they drew rein, and waited impatiently for the lumbering vehicle to reach them.

With rattle of harness and creak of complaining axle-tree the coach toiled over the endless trail, drawn by four raw-boned mules. As it drew near, the boys waved their sombreros to the driver, who returned the salute with a flourish of his long snakeskin whip.

At last it reached them and the driver rumbled a hoarse greeting. "How goes it, pards," he said, "an' what's the good word?"

"That's just what we were going to ask you," said Bert with a friendly smile. "We've been hearing a lot lately of the expected redskin uprising, and we wanted to know if you had a line on the real situation, Buck. Is there anything really doing, or is it all just talk?"

"I dunno," answered the driver, "some says yes an' some says no, but if you want my honest opinion I'd say thet the Injuns ain't got nerve enough to start trouble no more. Why, they're so all-fired meek an' lowly thet——"

Zip! A bullet whizzed through the sultry air and whirled the stage driver's slouch hat from his head. Zip! Zip! Zip! and the air was alive with the whine and drone of bullets.

"Hold-ups, by the 'tarnal," yelled the driver, accompanying his words with a whirl of oaths. "Down behind the coach, Sam!" addressing the guard, who always rode beside him on the box with loaded rifle; "we'll stand 'em off, or I'm a greaser."

The guard leaped down behind the coach at the same moment that Bert and Dick and Tom made for the same shelter. There were only two passengers in the coach, and they, pale of face and with chattering teeth, joined the little group.

"Them shots came from that bunch of chaparral over there," said Buck, "but it's an almighty queer way for road agents to go about a job. They ginerally——"

"Injuns!" shouted the guard, who had been peering cautiously around the end of the coach. "Injuns, by the Lord Harry, shoot me if they ain't!"

A thrill passed over the three comrades, and they looked warily forth in the direction in which the guard had pointed. Sure enough, over the top of the chapparal they could discern a number of hideously painted faces surmounted by tufts of eagle feathers. The guard, recovering from his first paralysis of astonishment, took careful aim at one of them and pulled the trigger. A yell of pain followed the report of his rifle, and a savage shout went up from the band of redskins. They answered with a volley that bored through the sides of the coach, and narrowly missed several of the little group gathered behind it.

"We got to turn the coach over," exclaimed Buck, "the top an' floor's a whole lot thicker than the sides, and besides, as it is there's nothin' to prevent the bullets from comin' in underneath. Lend a hand, everybody, and we'll get 'er over."

He crept in between the mules and commenced unharnessing them. Bert and his friends leaped to his assistance, although during the process they were much more exposed to the fire of the Indians. The latter were not slow to perceive this, and they opened a steady fire. But fortunately they were poor shots, and most of their bullets went wild. Several struck the mules, however, and the unfortunate animals plunged and kicked so wildly that the three friends and the driver stood in almost as much danger from them as from the bullets. Finally the traces were unfastened, and the mules, released from the harness, raced wildly away.

Bert and the others dodged nimbly back behind the coach, and then all hands set to the task of overturning it. By dint of exerting all their strength they finally managed to lift one side of the clumsy vehicle until it toppled over with a crash.

"There," exclaimed Buck, wiping the perspiration from his face with a big bandanna handkerchief; "so fur, so good, but we got to do more than that. Them Injuns will start to surround us as soon as they see they can't pick us off from the front, and we want to be ready for them."

"What do you think we'd better do?" asked Bert.

"Fust thing is t' get the trunks and mail bags out o' the coach and build a barricade with them," replied the driver, "an' it looks as though we stood a good chance o' gettin' shot full o' lead doin' it, too. If them Injuns hadn't been sech all-fired poor shots we'd a been winged before this, I reckon."

"Well, as long as it's got to be done, we might as well get it over with," said Dick; "come on, fellows, one, two——"

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Bert. "I think it would be a good plan for those of us who have rifles to be on the lookout and pick off any of the redskins who show themselves. Even if we don't get any, it will prevent them from taking good aim."

"We ain't got but one rifle, though," objected Buck. "Sam, here," motioning toward the guard, "is the only one in the bunch with a rifle."

"No, I've got one in my blanket roll," replied Bert, and before the driver could answer was busily engaged in undoing the tightly rolled blanket.

"I reckon you two had better get anythin' you want off your horses," said Buck, addressing Tom and Dick, "an' then set the critters loose. They ain't a mite o' good here, an' they only take up valuable space."

The boys were loath to act on this advice, but they saw the wisdom of it, and so did as the driver suggested. They knew that the horses, as soon as released, would make for the ranch, and they had little fear of the Indians being able to catch them. Accordingly, a few minutes later the three trusty animals were turned loose, each receiving a smart slap to start it on its way. They galloped off across the plain, and were soon lost to sight in the distance.

Meantime the Indians had been keeping up a straggling fire in the direction of the stage coach, and Bert and the guard set themselves to the task of silencing it. Lying flat on the ground, and aiming their guns cautiously around each end of the coach, they fired with sure aim every time a dusky arm or leg was exposed by their attackers. They were both crack shots, and their bullets seldom failed to reach their mark. Gradually the fire from the enemy died down, and at last stopped almost altogether. The precision of the white men astonished them, and they drew behind cover and held a conference.

"Now's the time!" exclaimed Buck. "Into the coach, boys, and rustle out the baggage. Lively's the word!"

All the little party, with the exception of the passengers, who seemed too paralyzed with fright to move, dashed into the coach, and before the Indians realized what was happening returned, each staggering under some bulky article, trunk, or mail bag.

The savages sprang into life, and a hail of bullets struck against the coach. But they were too late, and the defenders set to work to construct a circular rampart, using the coach as part of it. After arranging the baggage to their satisfaction they dug up earth and covered the improvised ramparts with it.

"So far, so good," said Buck, when at last they stopped to draw breath. "That will hold the red devils off for a time, anyway. But unless we get help in some way I'm afraid we're done for, anyway. There's a big party o' bucks there, and chances are that more will join them before mornin'. Then they'll come at us in earnest, and it will only be a question o' how long we can stand them off. After that——" he ended with a silence more eloquent than words.

"Isn't there—isn't there some way to summon aid?" asked one of the passengers, with blanched cheeks.

"I don't see how," replied Buck; "it would be jest plain suicide fer one of us to make a break now. Besides, it's twenty miles to the nearest town, and the Injuns'll be on us long before anybody could get to town and bring back help, even supposin' the Injuns didn't pot him before he got fairly started. O' course, we couldn't do anythin' before dark, nohow."

"Don't you think they'll attack before that?" asked Dick.

"No, I don't," replied the driver; "they'll want to surround us first, an' they won't start to do that until after dark, 'cordin' to my way o' thinkin'. What do you say, Sam?"

"Them's my sentiments exactly," answered that individual. "There ain't a chance in the world o' their doin' anythin' before that."

As the opinions of these two veterans coincided the matter was regarded as settled, and the boys commenced overhauling their pistols to make sure they were in perfect shape.

There was no further movement on the part of their besiegers, but Buck and Sam knew full well that the Indians were far from giving up their attack. To them the respite was more ominous than an active sally, for they knew that the braves were hatching some scheme for their destruction.

"They're foxy as they make 'em," opined Sam grimly; "the critters are cookin' up some deep plan to circumvent us, or I'm a Dutchman. Jest wait an' see if they ain't."

"If anybody thinks them red devils ain't watching us closer than a cat watches a mouse," said Buck, "I'll just prove it to 'em mighty pronto."

He snatched his sombrero from his head, and placing it on the muzzle of the guard's rifle, held the piece up in the air so that the hat projected above the edge of the over-turned coach. Instantly a sharp fusillade broke from the Indian's position, and one bullet, better aimed than the majority, passed clean through the sombrero, whirling it off the rifle.

"I reckon that shows they ain't asleep," remarked Buck grimly; "ef they don't get our scalps it won't be from lack o' tryin'."

"We've got to figure out some way of getting word to town," exclaimed Bert fiercely. "There must be some way, if we could only think of it. I have it!" he shouted. "Listen! The new branch they've been putting through from the railroad is almost completed, and a foreman I was speaking to a few days ago said they had almost finished stringing the telegraph wires. They're probably up by now, and if I could only get to them I'd have help here in no time!"

"By all that's holy, the lad's right," exclaimed Buck, "an' it ain't far from here neither, considerin' jest the distance."

"But the chances are you'd never reach the railroad, Bert," said Dick anxiously; "they'd wing you before you got anywhere near it."

"I'll have to take a chance on that," responded Bert. "Besides, if I don't go our condition is hopeless, anyhow, so I might as well attempt it."

The two Westerners nodded their heads at this, and Buck said: "O' course, it's only a ragged chance, but it might go through at that. The best thing will be for him to make the try the first second after dark. The redskins won't start to surround us until then, and by quick work he might get out before they'd finished postin' a ring around us."

"But even if you get to the railroad how are you going to telegraph without an instrument?" inquired Tom.

"Leave that to me," replied Bert; "if I can only get that far I'll manage to telegraph all right, never fear."

By this time the sun was low in the west, and a short time afterward it dipped under the rim of the prairie. For a short time the sky was painted in vivid colors by its reflected rays, and then the sudden prairie twilight descended swiftly.

"Now's your time, son," said Buck; "are you all ready?"

"I'll start the first second you think it best," replied Bert, and then turning shook hands all around, ending up with Dick and Tom.

"We'd go with you, old friend, if it would do any good," said Dick, wringing Bert's hand. "I guess you know that without my saying it."

"I know it, all right," replied Bert; "but don't you worry about me. The Indian isn't born yet that can get my scalp."

As he finished speaking Buck said: "You'd better start now, my lad. It's so dark they can't see you, and I don't think they've had time to surround us yet. If you do get through and send the message make for town. Don't try to get back here, because you'd never make it, and if you did it would do no good. There's no use sacrificing your life along with ours."

"Well, I'll get there first," said Bert, "and then there'll be plenty of time to think about whether or not to come back." Needless to say, in his own mind there was little doubt that if it lay in his power he would return and fight, and if need be die at his comrades' side.