The struggle had been continuous for years, and the final result inevitable.

Yet this year the story had been a different one, for the united tribes had swept the invading stockmen back, had butchered their cattle, and once again roamed these plains as masters.

Hamlin knew this; he had met and talked with those driven out, and he was aware that even now Black Kettle's winter camp of hostiles was not far away.

This hut might, of course, be the deserted site of some old cow camp, some outrider's shack, but--the fellow who fired on them! He was a reality--a dangerous reality--and he was hiding somewhere close at hand.
The Sergeant stole along the front to the door, listening intently for any warning sound from either without or within.

Every nerve was on edge; all else forgotten except the intensity of the moment.