"See 'em come!" Franklin's eyes drew their brows down in a narrowing frown, though he remained silent, as was his wont at any time of stress.
The Indians came on, close up to the barricade, where they saw the muzzles of four rifles following them steadily, a sight which to them carried a certain significance.

The line broke and wheeled, scattering, circling, still rising and falling, streaming in hair and feathers, and now attended with a wild discord of high-keyed yells.
"Keep still, boys; don't shoot!" cried Franklin instinctively.

"Wait!" It was good advice.

The mingling, shifting line, obedient to some loud word of commando swept again up near to the front of the barricade, then came to a sudden halt with half the forefeet off the ground.

The ponies shuffled and fidgeted, and the men still yelled and called out unintelligible sounds, but the line halted.