The villain, Van Dorn, was surprised at the hostile attitude of the Indians who had said to him the previous day:

“You may command us.”

Now their weapons were raised in defense of the boy, and Ralph Radcliffe could not be reached except by passing through the glittering array of steel.

Van Dorn found out that gratitude in the Indian character was very strong, but he also learned that superstition in the same animal was greater than every other feeling.

He felt that his hold on the reds was growing shaky, and he did not care about losing his new-found command.

He thrust his weapon back into his belt, and spoke:

“I was wrong,” he said, “I did not know that the hand of the Great Spirit had been laid upon him. I would not now harm a hair of his head. You have done well, my braves.”

And then the well-pleaded redskins got upon their feet, and Ralph was led away to a tent.

“Ten thousand furies!” grunted the baffled villain as he strode away. “What can be the matter with the boy? Is he really a bit cracked, or is he only shamming so as to arouse the sympathy and gain the reds’ protection? Great Spirit be hanged. If I can get a good square show to run my knife across his windpipe, I’ll not take time to think before doing it. He is in my way, and anything that bars me now must be removed.”

And the determined compression of his thin lips told that his savage nature would not hesitate to carry out his evil purpose.

After the morning meal had been put out of sight, the reds prepared for a start.

As they were strong together, and not over strong when apart, the leader of the other party, a cunning half-breed, conferred with Van Dorn, and made an agreement to travel along with him.

Van Dorn had no special place to go to, and all he wanted to do was to hang on to the party until Ralph Radcliffe was put out of the way.

“Then I can cut away to Clarkville,” said the scheming rascal; “and then hurrah for a slappin’ old time.”

They moved away in good style together, and traveled east, it being the design of the half-breed leader to strike the common route of the emigrant trains.

Mustang Max, the young guide, was walking along in advance of the long train, when he discovered the approach of the combined.

“Halt!”

Clear as a bell the command rang from his lips.

It rolled down the long line of heavy wagons.

It passed from mouth to mouth, and the train came to a standstill on the plain.

Everybody was on tiptoe.

The guide pointed to the west.

“Look,” he said, and then they saw the mounted Indians sweeping down upon them.

A few women screamed.

“Stop that!” said Mustang Max. “I want no noise except what I feel inclined to make. Don’t let me hear another of those yawps, now I tell you.”

“But they are sweeping down upon us at full speed,” anxiously said one of the men.

“Don’t flurry yourself,” smiled the tall guide; “they ain’t foolish enough to rush upon loaded rifles in broad daylight. They’ll stop before they get within gunshot—you can bet your dear life they will. They can see who’s the boss of this train when they happen to clap their peepers on me, and they won’t hurt my feelings by rushing at me in that style.”

He looked around him.

No grove, not so much as a bush or a tree, only the hard, level plain and the prairie grass.

“This is a bad place,” he said; “but I must make my stand here for all that.”

He turned to the waiting emigrants.

“The three head teams face around in a half circle, and the hind teams turn from the other way. Every one of the animals, and all the women and young uns inside the ring. Every man see that his weapons are well loaded and primed, and have his knife ready to clap his hand on. Use the wheels of the wagons for posts and lookout ports.”

His orders were rapidly obeyed.

The wagons swung around: all the women, children and teams on the inside, and thus a strong corral was formed.

Behind the wagons, forming the circle, crouched the stout-hearted defenders, looking out upon the plain in the direction from which the foe was seen advancing.

Onward at a swift, swinging gallop came the enemy, their horses taking in the excitement of the affair and literally leaping over the level course.

On, steadily on, until but a quarter of a mile intervened between them and the wagons.

The women who dared to peer out through the wagon wheels grew pale as death at their near approach.

The men feared that this meant a determined assault, and they grasped their weapons firmly.

But the guide knew the tactics of the people he had contended with all his life.

When they had approached to within the distance named, they spread out in equal numbers to the right and to the left, and coursed away on either hand of the wagons.

“That is to see the entire strength of our fort,” said Mustang Max. “They won’t care much about tackling the concern, that’s my private opinion, but I may be mistaken.”

“They greatly outnumber us,” said one of the men.

“But we are inside of a barricade,” said the guide. “We have the advantage of being able to shoot from cover, while they must ride upon us in the very face of a bullet, as one might say, and they are not likely to do that unless the night covers them.”

“And do you think they will hang on until night if they don’t dare tackle us in broad daylight?”

“I certainly do,” said Mustang Max. “In fact that’s their regular way of doing the business. Look at them now.”

The Indians had formed into four different parties, and had come to a halt on the plain.

“That is to bother us,” said the young guide. “We must watch all points of the compass now. Attention.”

They all looked at him.

Mustang Max selected the proper number of men, and posted them in four different squads in order to fully cover the four parties of red rascals now standing motionless on the plain.

Suddenly a shot rang out to the far right hand.

A moment later a similar sound came from the left.

Then followed a report from the foe in the rear.

The guide knew now what the pistol shots meant.

They were signal shots to start a combined assault from the four different points.

Even as the idea flashed through his mind the fourth report came from the party in front.

Then a simultaneous cheering yell rang fiercely out, and with horrible shrieks and cries, and wildly brandished weapons, on came the foe.

“Steady!” gritted Mustang Max. “Don’t fire until I give the word, and then make sure of your mark.”