"Quick, men!" yelled Ray. "Out with you, you on the west front! Stay you
here, you others! Watch the Sioux! They'll be on us in an instant!" And
away he sped from the shelter of the bank, out from the thick of the
cottonwoods, out to the open prairie, straight toward the coming torrent
of flame still, thank God, full seven hundred yards away, but leaping
toward them with awful strides. Out with him rushed Field, and out from
Clayton's front sped half a dozen old hands, every man fumbling for his
match box; out until they had reached a line with their captain, already
sprawled upon the turf, and there, full an hundred yards from the grove,
they spread in rude skirmish line and, reckless of the mad chorus of
yells that came sweeping down the wind, reckless of the clamor of the
coming charge, reckless of the whistling lead that almost instantly
began nipping and biting the turf about them, here, there and
everywhere, they, too, had started little fires; they, too had run their
line of flame across the windward front; they, too, had launched a wall
of flame sailing toward the grove, and then, back through blinding smoke
they ran for their saddle blankets, just as the sharp sputter of shots
burst forth on the northward side, and the Sioux, with magnificent dash,
came thundering within range.
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