"I'M OFF; GOOD-BYE!"  
Though his brave companion had fallen almost at his side, Brinton Kingsland had reached the camp of the supply train without receiving so much as a scratch. He mourned him, for he was a worthy man; but he was heart-broken at his failure to gain tidings of his loved parents and little sister. He did not know what to do, and could only fear the worst.
 
When he had told his story to his new friends, none of them were able to offer any encouragement or hope.
 
The supply train consisted of a dozen waggons, in charge of sixteen teamsters. As a matter of course, all were armed, and had come thus far without trouble.
 
They were making ready to resume their journey to Wounded Knee when the affray already described took place. This caused an hour's delay, and now, when about to start again, the signs of danger became so threatening, they held back for consultation.
 
The Indians whom they had driven from the prostrate form of Scout Jackson reappeared on the crest of the hill over which they had skurried, and it was noticed that their number was increased to fully a dozen.
 
While the teamsters were watching them another band came into sight, in the opposite direction.
 
To the dismay of the spectators, this party was more numerous than the first. Not only that, but both bands advanced at a slow trot, and met at a point a couple of hundred yards distant, and in a place over which the train would have to pass if it pushed on toward the camp at Wounded Knee.
 
"Boys," said Captain Wadsworth, who was in charge of the train, "there's going to be a fight."
 
"We ought to be able to keep them off," replied one of his men.
 
"So we shall if no more appear; but the Sioux are as thick as berries, and by-and-by we shall have a hundred or more of them popping away at us. We may as well get ready for what's certain to come."
 
"Jackson said something to me," observed Brinton, "about an escort having been sent out from Wounded Knee to bring you in."
 
"They can't come any too soon," responded the captain, who fully comprehended the peril; "but I'm afraid they will be too late. Those Indians don't let the grass grow under their feet."
 
The leader did not content himself with talking, but began to prepare for the attack, which might come at any moment. The waggons were drawn up in a circle, in the middle of which were placed the horses. Bags of grain, boxes and bundles, were piled on the ground underneath the waggons. These served as an additional protection for the animals, and screened the men, when kneeling behind and firing at their assailants.
 
The hostiles were quick to detect what was going on, and did not allow the work to be completed without interference. They began circling back and forth, riding entirely around the camp and discharging their guns at it. The exhibition of horsemanship was a fine one; but they kept at such a distance that their shots did little damage. In some way, one got through the entrenchments, as they might be called, and slightly wounded a horse in the shoulder. He made more fuss than if it had gone through his head, rearing, snorting, and plunging, and throwing the rest into a panic, which would have ended in a stampede, had they not been guarded with unusual care.
 
The teamsters did not accept these unwelcome attentions meekly, but fired at their circling assailants; the cause named, however, prevented much success. It looked as if one or two of the shots inflicted damage, but not to the extent of disabling any pony or his rider.
 
Standing at the rear of one of the waggons, where he could see everything that was going on, Captain Wadsworth watched the exciting incidents. At his elbow was Brinton Kingsland, who did not think it worth while to try his hand with his Winchester, though the others were continually cracking around him.
 
"What is to be feared," said the captain, "is that the hostiles will soon increase to such an extent that they will overwhelm us."
 
"How many do you think are out there now?" inquired Brinton.
 
"I should say between twenty and thirty—that is, there were a few minutes ago, but there are five or six less now."
 
"What is the meaning of that?"
 
The leader turned his bronzed face toward the youth and smiled significantly.
 
"Don't you catch on? They have sent after reinforcements: a slight number now means a big number pretty soon."
 
"Have you noticed those bucks on the top of the ridge yonder?"
 
Captain Wadsworth looked in the direction named. Three Indians had dismounted, and were standing close together, or rather two of them were, while the third seemed to be stooping and busy with something on the ground.
 
"How long have they been there?" asked the leader.
 
"They rode up the slope within the last five minutes. They were off their ponies before they stopped. I can't guess what they are doing."
 
"I don't know; but we shall soon learn."
 
Although the cracking of rifles continued, and the teamsters, kneeling behind the fortifications, were doing their utmost to pick off some of the dusky riders, who in turn sent in their dropping shots, Captain Wadsworth gave them little heed. The position of himself and Brinton was exposed, and, had their assailants come closer, they would not have dared to maintain it; but with the combatants so widely separated, it cannot be said they were in much real danger.
 
The three Indians in whom our friends were so much interested just then were beyond and apart from the others. Their horses were cropping the few blades of withered grass that had survived the winter's tempests; but not one was a dozen yards from his master, all of whom were so grouped together that their movements could not be identified.
 
Rather curiously there was not a spy-glass among the teamsters. Such an article would have been valuable just then; but they had to depend upon their unaided vision.
 
The captain and Brinton, however, agreed that two of the bucks were bent over and busy with something on the ground, while the third, standing on the crest of the ridge, appeared to be awaiting the action of his companions before carrying out some plan he had in mind.
 
"Look!" whispered the youth; "isn't that smoke?"
 
The captain was silent a moment before answering—
 
"Yes; the Indian is like the Chinaman: he can start a fire where you and I couldn't kindle a spark. I believe they will make a bundle of water-soaked leaves crackle and burn like tinder wood. Those fellows have go............