The wild attack
had been made in vain. The Sioux were scampering back, convinced, but
not discomfited. Some few of their number, borne away stunned and
bleeding by comrade hands from underneath their stricken chargers,--some
three or four, perhaps, who had dared too much,--were now closing their
eyes on the last fight of their savage lives.
To Ray and to many of his men it was all an old story. Stabber would
never have counselled or permitted attack on seasoned troopers, fighting
behind even improvised shelter. Something, perhaps, had occurred to
blind his younger rival to the peril of such assault, and now, as three
or four little parties were seen slowly drifting away toward the ridge,
burdened by some helpless form, other couriers came thundering down at
Red Fox, and wild excitement prevailed among the Elk Teeth. More signals
were flashing. More Indians came popping into view, their feathered
bonnets streaming in the rising wind, and about the prairie wave, where
the savage general had established field headquarters, a furious
conference was going on. Stabber had again interposed, and with grim but
hopeful eyes, Ray and his fellows watched and noted. Every lull in the
fight was so much gain for them.
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