An Indian hand fell beneath its blanket covering; there was a flash of flame across a pony's saddle; Hughes sprang backward, and went reeling into the snow.

Hamlin fired, as the savage dodged between the horse's legs, sending him sprawling, and, ignoring the other Indian, swung about to cover Dupont.

Swift as he moved, he was too late.

With one desperate spring backward the white man was behind the woman's pony, sheltered by her shapeless figure, gripping the animal's bit.

The second Indian dropped to his knees and opened fire.