Our plainsmen, too, were grim, though eager; and our little band of cavalry, hired fighters, rose above that station and became not mongrel private soldiers, but Anglo-Saxons each.

They lay or knelt or stood back of the wagon line, imperturbable as wooden men, and waited for the order to fire, though meantime two of them dropped, hit by chance bullets from the wavering line of horsemen that now encircled us.
"Tell us when to fire, Auberry," I heard Belknap say, for he had practically given over the situation to the old plainsman.

At last I heard the voice of Auberry, changed from that of an old man into the quick, clear accents of youth, sounding hard and clear.

"Ready now! Each fellow pick his own man, and kill him, d'ye hear, _kill_ him!" We had no further tactics.

Our fire began to patter and crackle.