The out-riding flankers exchanged constant shots with the skulking savages hiding in every ravine and coulee.
Pausing only to protect their wounded, fighting their way step by step, N Troop ran the gantlet and came charging into the cheering lines with every pound of their treasure safe.

Weir of D, whose dismounted troopers held that portion of the line, strode a pace forward to greet the leader, and as the extended hands of the officers met, there echoed down to them from the north the reports of two heavy volleys, fired in rapid succession.

The sounds were clear, distinctly audible even above the uproar of the valley.

The heavy eyes of the two soldiers met, their dust-streaked faces flushed.
"That was a signal, Custer's signal for help!" the younger man cried, impulsively, his voice full of agony.

"For God's sake, Weir, what are you fellows waiting here for ?" The other uttered a groan, his hand flung in contempt back toward the bluff summit.